


A Matter of Time

by Insomniacghostie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BAMF Hermione Granger, F/M, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Multi, Slow Burn, Time Turner, Very morally grey Hermione, aged up character, somewhat spy Hermione Granger, the slowest burn oh my god, very slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-05-03 08:04:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 90,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14564610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insomniacghostie/pseuds/Insomniacghostie
Summary: Hermione Granger has a realization in her third year, which sparks her abuse of her Time Turner. Two years later, Severus Snape takes notice. Thus begins a partnership of spying, and kindred spirits become close.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started on Fanfiction.net but I like that site less than this one so I'm moving it over. This starts at the beginning of their Fifth year and will be an extremely slow burn.

Hermione was tired. She was tired of her tedious classes. She was tired of the tension between everyone. She was tired of the war. And she was tired of having to act younger than she really was. The guilt was starting to wear on her, as it had for so long. But it being her sixteenth birthday, it was nearly unbearable. In fact, it almost made her grateful for her detention with Snape.

  
She thought it was ridiculous that he even gave her detention. Honestly, she’d prevented a cauldron from melting. Hermione had been quietly coaching Neville for years, she mused, but she didn’t care. She was cranky from having to exert her magic all day after her bracelet had been destroyed in the nearly disastrous potions incident. Her glamour was typically built into her jewelry, but she hadn’t had a chance to reapply it to anything. Especially since she was wanting to experiment with more charms.

  
At least she had the afternoon blessedly free, given that Professor Binns never noticed if she wanted to skip class and Hagrid was on a long weekend to secure another creature for class. Hermione decided to luxuriate in her dorm room while no one else was around, taking out her notebook and tapping on the front page. More pages than the book should have held flipped until coming to a rest on the specified page, and Hermione hummed an approval note.

  
“Yes, I think that will do,” she muttered to herself, and began scribbling in the notebook and occasionally running some numbers in the air with her wand. She didn’t have the time to weave the spells together that night, but given that the next day was the weekend, she would be able to complete her new charm bracelet soon. She closed her notebook and tucked it into her bag before leaving for dinner.

  
The young woman reached the dungeons after a quick meal, brushing off her friends’ concerns about her spending her birthday in detention. Honestly, she was glad to be out of their range of concern for the moment. Hermione knocked on the door to the potions classroom and waited a few beats for a response, but none came. She tried again, and again no sound came back. She sighed to herself before steeling her resolve for patience and opened the door anyway.

  
Snape was sitting inside, marking papers at his desk. She swallowed her frustration and approached his desk. He continued marking without looking up.  
“What is it, Miss Granger?” he drawled, and she almost faltered. He clearly had told her to come for detention that evening. She pulled in a deep breath, causing him to look at her with amused eyes.

  
“I’m here for my detention, sir,” she said, trying to keep her annoyance out of her voice. By his brow raising, she failed.

  
“Obviously. There is a station set up for you to prepare ingredients for me. You ungrateful brats have used up nearly all my stores of beetle wings and eyes. You’ll take care not to damage a single one when you collect them,” he said, and she looked back into the darkest corner of the room, to see an unobvious station set up. “You will leave your wand here and turn off your little glamour charm. No one here cares about you trying to doll yourself up.”

  
At that last instruction, Hermione froze.

  
“You can tell I’m wearing a charm?” she asked, and he rolled his eyes.

  
“I can feel the magic on you, child. At least you don’t look like a tart like some of your peers. Nonetheless, off with it. The magic residue can affect the potency,” he clarified, and Hermione hesitated.

  
“May I speak with you in your office, sir? I… am reluctant to remove the charm without being able to speak privately about it,” he said, cheeks turning red and Snape gave her a look of pure annoyance.

  
“I care not about any acne breakouts or whatever vanity you are trying to preserve. Off with it, or I will,” he warned, and she sighed, setting wards over the classroom instead and locking the door. Snape stood, furious, until she removed the charm.

  
Hermione Granger changed before him. She became a couple of inches taller, her eyes were sharper but more tired. There were bags under her dark brown eyes, and the last of the baby fat had left her. She had aged in a moment, but the annoyance on her face was just the same. A long, tense moment of silence passed with Snape staring at her in surprise, trying to catalogue all the subtle changes. It was not adding up in his mind. The girl was sixteen, but looked to be an adult. He finally met her eyes again.

  
“Explain yourself,” he demanded. Hermione nodded, and took a seat at a nearby desk.

  
“You may want to sit, sir. It’s a long story,” she started before taking a deep breath and diving in. “In my third year, I was given a time turner to be able to take all classes available. Professor McGonagall said it was because of my potential, but I know it was really because I’m a book crazy swot, so don’t bother insulting me over that. I began living essentially double days, due to my workload. When Sirius Black escaped prison, I took a bit of extra time to start researching what happened in the betrayal of Harry’s parents, according to the Prophet and what sort of investigation had been done. Did you know that there was actually no evidence outside of Pettigrew’s finger? Well, it was starting to not add up. I wondered what other inconsistencies there were.

  
“I found many. The end of the year, when Sirius escaped as did Pettigrew, I increased my research into the first war. Of course, after I attempted to go back and prevent Pettigrew from escaping. My stunner failed. I… I had to accept that that was a fixed point, as much as I wanted to prevent it. When Cedric died, I….” she explained, but trailed off with teary eyes. She took a steadying breath and began again.

  
“When he died, I resolved to prevent as many deaths as I could. I began giving myself extra training, physically. But I started to read even more. A surprise, I’m sure. I wanted to look into creating spells, I did more research into runes and their meanings, spells in other languages, things like that. I developed my glamour charm and put it on a bracelet. It broke today, when some potion landed on it. It’s tied to showing a specific age and health level. It is draining without having an anchor, but I haven’t had a chance to create a new one yet,” she finished.

  
It was a lot to process. Initially Snape was furious. Then, curious. Then back to anger. By the end, he just felt exhausted. All problems ended up landing on his shoulders it seemed. He rubbed his tired eyes and leaned against his desk.

  
“I am going to ask you questions and I expect honest answers. I fear you left out quite a few details, Miss Granger,” he warned, and she nodded.

“First, Miss Granger, is why were you not made to give back the Time Turner at the end of the year?” he asked, and she went red as she did when confronted by her rule breaking.

  
“I was meant to destroy it. I lied and told Professor McGonagall that I had, but I kept it,” she said reluctantly, and he closed his eyes. Of course the Gryffindor head of house trusted her prized student so wholly.

  
“Foolish. Second, how have you aged as much as you have?” he asked, and she shifted in her chair.

  
“Over the summer, I used it. It does not register as using magic for the Underage Magic act. I took summer classes at university in secret. I did not want my parents to know why I was becoming so desperate to know as much as I could, nor did I want them to not be able to spend time with me, I know it’s limited,” she explained. A sentimental answer as ever, and he did not press on it.

  
“Third. Who knows about this?” he asked, and she shook her head.

  
“No one, sir. I wasn’t about to try to advertise my misuse of a magic item,” she sniffed. He scowled.

  
“You will tell me these discrepancies you spoke of,” he demanded, and she reached for her bag and rummaged around to find a plain notebook. She hesitated before handing it to him.

  
“Can I trust you, sir?” she asked, and he stared at her, unamused. However, she appeared quite serious.

  
“I am your professor, Miss Granger,” he reminded her with some weariness.

  
“You’re also a spy,” she countered, and it was his turn to freeze and be caught off guard. He looked at his student with new eyes, finding that to have been the bravest, if not most foolish, thing she had ever said to him.

  
“Whatever gave you that idea, insolent child?” he asked in a dark tone. He stalked over to where she stood with her notebook clasped tightly to her chest. He loomed over her still quite short form, a sneer on his face. She stared up at him with a healthy amount of fear, but narrowed her eyes.

  
“You’re more insulting when you’re caught off guard, you know. I’ve seen you leaving the castle and coming back at odd hours. I’ve seen you covered in blood, one night--” she said quickly but his hand clamped over her mouth and he hissed. Her eyes widened and he felt her tremble beneath his hand and he fought the revulsion he had for himself.

  
“Stop. Speaking. Now,” he bit out, and dragged her into his office and tapped a pattern on his bookcase, revealing a door to his private quarters. Once in there, he threw her into a chair, ignoring her sharp yelp of pain from the rough treatment, and heavily warded his room and fireplace. He advanced on her again, blood boiling at her sheer gall.

  
“Tell me what you know and who you’ve told,” he demanded with a quiet but fearsome voice. Hermione swallowed the lump of fear in her throat. She shook her head, holding her notebook even tighter.

  
“I-I haven’t told anyone, sir, I promise! It wasn’t as if I really went snooping-- I was just trying to keep a tab on professors so I could move around at night without being caught. Sometimes, I go out on the grounds to just get some air. I saw you-- but I also saw you go directly to the Headmaster’s office. You looked hurt, sir. I wanted to help but I know it wouldn’t be my place and you would probably kill me before anything--” she started rambling until he interrupted her.

  
“Legilimens!” he yelled, invading her mind to look for any sign of dishonesty. To his surprise, he was greeted by a strong wall and promptly booted out. Hermione now looked angry over scared and stood up from her chair, getting into Snape’s face with a wagging finger.

  
“How dare you try to just invade my mind like that! I have been nothing but honest with you-- despite knowing of your other activities, and you treat me like that? You have no right to go digging in my brain! If anyone should be trying legilimency here, it should be me trying to check your motivations!” she ranted, poking his chest just the way she would with Harry or Ron when they messed up. He grabbed the offending finger and glared heavily at her.

“Do not presume to assault my person, Miss Granger,” he hissed, and she scoffed.

  
“Strong words, Professor Snape. Hypocritically strong,” she rebuffed, and he at least had the decency to avert his eyes shamefully. Hermione was still breathing heavily with her own anger, wild hair giving off sparks. He noted the sight for future reference.

  
“I suppose you are correct… However I cannot be sure of your truthfulness. You lied to your favorite professor, to your friends, and your parents. You lie to all of us on a daily basis with your very appearance. How am I to trust that you are telling the truth to me, someone you distrust, so openly?” he asked, figuring he had caught her in her own hypocrisy. To his surprise, instead of looking ashamed at being caught lying again or getting mad at questioning her, she just looked resigned and as tired as he felt.

  
“I didn’t have a choice to tell you, really. You would have taken off my glamour. And… and I think I just really wanted someone else to know,” she admitted quietly. Snape did not have a good response for that. He knew that feeling well, the longing to finally be honest and open but knowing he never could be. It was not only dangerous for himself, but for anyone he told. For a long moment, they just looked at the fire, not sure where to go from there. Hermione was, unsurprisingly, the first to break.

  
“Sir? I would like to make a proposition,” she ventured, and he gave her a harsh look that she did not shy from.

  
“I’ll tell you everything I know. I’ll let you see my notes, the connections I’ve drawn, my observations. I took a lot of psychology classes, I’ve been picking up on people’s little habits. I think you could really benefit from it,” she offered. He eyed her warily.

  
“What would you ask in return?” he asked. She was offering him a great boon. The outside perspective of someone who was not involved in anything could provide an interesting insight, and her psychological notes could be beneficial. She shrugged.

  
“I just want the chance to be fully honest with someone. You don’t have to tell me anything. I won’t ask you to explain yourself, or tell me anything more than you want to. I just… I just want to be free to be myself for a short while,” she explained. It was a simple request, innocent in nature, and Snape almost shuddered in response at the vulnerability presented to him. He was not allowed vulnerability, and here she was being so open about her own. He felt vile.

  
“I can… consider it,” he finally ceded, and felt revulsion at her open display of relief at his proclamation. People should not be relieved to spend time with him. “I will let you know when I would be available for such a meeting.”

  
He could practically see the lightbulb go off over her head. Really, for a girl who had built such a shield to hide her thoughts, she wore herself so openly.

  
“May I make a suggestion, sir? You mentioned earlier that our classes go through your potion stores at a fast pace. Perhaps I could help you under guise of a potential potions apprenticeship later on. I imagine Professor McGonagall would be pleased that you would consider me worthy of such a thing, and you might be able to sell it to, er, You-Know-Who as using a-a muggleborn for labor, with no intention of ever letting me truly having an apprenticeship,” she suggested. He narrowed his eyes at her. For a moment, he thought she may have made a good Slytherin. If only she could keep her damned hope off her face.

  
“....Perhaps indeed. As I said, it shall be considered. I believe this has been quite eventful enough of a night, however. I would advise you make your way to your dorm without fail. I will contact you regarding this… proposition soon,” he told her in a clear dismissal. The daft girl actually beamed at him before leaving his quarters. He had been so focused on his anger and, admittedly, fear at being discovered as a spy that he had entirely forgotten he had dragged her into his chambers. A deep shame overwhelmed him at getting so worked up that he could act with such impropriety.

  
He resolved not to let his emotions get the better of him again.


	2. Chapter 2

When Snape next saw Hermione in class, she was wearing a small charm bracelet and looked as he fully expected-- young, pristine, and ready to learn. If not for her shy smile as she entered the classroom, he would have thought he had dreamed the odd events of the days previous. He slipped a note in with her returned homework, and to her credit she did not give any indication of the secret message. It was only when the class was over and she was nearly out the door that she met his eye and barely nodded-- she would see him later that evening.

Hermione was quite giddy, herself. It felt entirely freeing to know that she would be allowed a small chance to be open and honest after what had been years to her. She would not mention a few things, for the sake of propriety as well as her own want for privacy, but for someone to know her as Hermione the eighteen year old, the young adult and fighter in a war was heady. She entered the potions classroom after curfew, and found the same beetles set up from her deflected detention.

Snape was waiting by the desk, looking slightly awkward but still a full figure of authority. Hermione approached the desk and sat down her bag, then tapped her watch to remove the glamour charm. A look of relief washed over her, and she put her wand away and grabbed the box of beetles.  
“Shall I begin, sir?” she asked, and he nodded.

“Yes. As you work, I’ll ask you questions. Take care to not get too distracted from the beetles-- I will deduct points if any are too damaged to be useful,” he warned, and to his annoyance she just quirked her lips in amusement. 

“Yes, sir,” she said with a smile to her voice, and he glowered at her. She pulled one beetle from the box and deftly began to harvest the ingredients, not even flinching at the bug guts getting under her short nails.

“Very well. When did you first realize that the case of Black was not as it seemed?” he asked, and she looked up a moment, brows furrowed in thought.  
“It was after I knew about Professor Lupin’s condition. Harry had overheard a discussion between professors that Sirius was his godfather. I wanted to look into why he would betray the Potters-- any amount of noted disputes, of pressure to rat them out, anything like that. But even the papers admitted it seemed out of the blue but typical of a Black. Sirius isn’t a typical Black, though-- he was never in Slytherin, openly defied his family and ran away from home to live with Harry’s dad before he finished school. They were brothers, essentially.

“But when I was looking through old yearbooks, I did notice something a little odd. The Mauraders were in a lot of photos together, but Pettigrew always looked, well, distant. I don’t think he ever felt like he really belonged with them. You were in their year, weren’t you? What was your opinion of them?” she asked.  
Snape snarled out of habit and turned away from watching her hands eviscerate the beetles.

“The four of them were all foul mouthed brutes who neither deserved the attention they got or truly appreciated the opportunities they had,” he said with halting words, clearly trying not to grind his teeth. While Hermione knew that Snape hated the Mauraders, she hadn’t expected such a vitrolistic answer. She did not respond, instead watching his back as he took a few deep breaths.

“It is… difficult for me to think of them beyond their arrogance and cruelty. However… thinking back on it, I find it difficult to recall many instances of Pettigrew acting on his own. He was the first to run and typically a lookout over anything. Perhaps he was a coward even then,” he finally mused.   
“If they were so cruel, sir, why do they still seem to be so loved?” she asked with genuine confusion. Snape wanted to yell at her for her density, but she was not questioning his judgement. Instead he gave her a look that she was being stupid.

“Surely, Miss Granger, you are smart enough to figure that one out. They were brilliant golden children. Black broke the mold of his terrible family. Lupin was proof that having a curse did not make you an immediate monster. Potter… he was simply born lucky. They were a shining example of true friendship, or whatever nonsense people liked to tout to justify never allowing them a single punishment,” he sneered, bitterness dripping from every word, and he fell quiet.

“I do not wish to speak more on the subject. Tell me what all subjects you have been diving into over your summers,” he said instead. He wanted to gauge the level of knowledge she could bring to the table. She immediately began rambling off a list. Essentially, she had a muggle Bachelor Degree in liberal arts, primed to go in any direction she saw fit. And there were many directions. Criminal justice, psychology, biology and chemistry were her main interests at the moment, but she had also been doing extra research into herbology, ancient runes, and charms, with a lot of theory in potions as well. Ravenclaw had truly suffered a loss by her sorting.

“That is… inhumane,” he finally said, overwhelmed at the amount of work she had clearly put into her own education. She frowned and shrugged, continuing to work on her beetles.

“It won't hurt to be prepared. With… his return, I want to have every bit of knowledge that might help us win,” she defended. 

“Are there any areas in which you are not going for a doctorate?” he asked teasingly, and she turned red but bit her lip to avoid lashing out. 

“No. I just… I feel very unprepared. But it’s here. The war is at our doors, already starting and I’m pretending to be sixteen and naive to it. But Cedric already died for this war. How many died before his return? How many will die now? Or end up in St. Mungo’s, trapped in their own minds, battered and broken or insane? I can’t let that happen to anyone.”

Snape sighed at her actually starting to tear up. 

“That is well and truly out of your control. It is… admirable, the lengths to which you are willing to go. However, this is still a war. You will lose friends. You will see them hurt, or worse. It will be through no fault of your own. The sooner you accept that you are not a lone actor in a static field, the better off you’ll be in the long run. Your friends may be young now, but… we were young in the last war, too. It cares not for your age, for your friendship or your love. Death Eaters do not care. All you can hope for is to keep yourself alive and do what you can, when you can. To believe any more is foolish,” he advised, much gentler than he was comfortable being. Women crying always did make him uncomfortable.

To his relief, she nodded and seemed to take the words to heart. It was not a bunch of nonsense designed to make her feel better. But clearly the girl had been allowing herself to run herself rampant with trying to shove an entire lifetime of knowledge into a few years. 

They managed to turn the conversation less personal as she continued working. He asked after her knowledge of the first war, and she told him she knew mentions of the Order of the Phoenix, and he confirmed the continued existence. She knew who some of the key players were, and remarked that it would be better to try to have more Slytherins on their side, at which he scoffed.

“Hogwarts has been trying to keep Slytherin away from anything good since it was founded. No matter who it is, their background, or the reasons the Hat placed them in Slytherin, the rest of the school does not want them to become good people,” he sneered. Hermione did not comment-- he had a point. The first thing she’d been told on the train was that no good witch went to Slytherin, and as a Muggleborn she’d be killed the first night in there. Not for the first time, she wondered how things might have been different if there was not such a stigma.

“You’re right. It’s horrid. How would you recommend implementing change?” she asked, and he shrugged it off.

“I do not believe it is possible at this point. There is a reason I am so favorable to my house-- no one else would dare be kind to them, so I may… be a little heavy in my protection of them,” he admitted, and Hermione quirked a smile. That was quite an understatement, but she understood it a bit more clearly now. A small idea was buzzing in the back of her mind, not yet fully formed, and she put a pin in it for later.

“Well, I still have hope for the future,” she commented, and he scoffed but did not comment. She would learn eventually, he was sure, that it was foolish to try. Especially in the current climate. 

Before they realized it, hours had passed and Snape dismissed Hermione after they put away the ingredients. He told her he was expecting a flubberworm shipment soon, and would require her help when it arrived. She left feeling freer, but Snape felt more overwhelmed.

He had enough to deal with, he should not have let his curiosity get the better of him and make a deal with the girl. He should not have to be some girl’s diary because she chose to alienate herself. And yet, he found himself interested in her opinions. They were far removed from his opinion of what she would typically say, and he realized that he actually did not know much about her at all. He tried to catalogue his knowledge and found it lacking. She had been an arm waving, crazed bookworm just last year, or perhaps she hadn’t. His strongest impression of her was her first and second years, but she had dropped off his radar as she had began to put more focus on her studies and her friends. He wondered if the other professors had noticed. It had been so gradual, he doubted it.

Meanwhile, Hermione was starting to have her relief wear off. Now, she just felt weird. Her standoffish and mean professor now knew more important things about her than her best friends did-- but the thought of explaining to Harry and Ron and the potential of them isolating her again was too much to bear. It was hellish when they had cut her out of the loop for her reporting his broom, but now, when she already felt so alone… she didn’t want to think about it. But at the same time, she knew it was not fair to put it all on Professor Snape, who already had so much on his plate. 

She resolved not to let it get too personal, steeling her own heart against the pain that her self imposed loneliness would cause. She couldn’t drag him down with her-- he was down far enough.


	3. Chapter 3

The next time they met, Snape noticed an odd sense of distance coming from his student. Hermione greeted him with her usual polite friendliness, and made no quips about the disgusting worms she would be chopping up. He began to ask her more questions about what she had found-- again, she did not want to give him her whole notebook.

“There are more than my observations relating to the war in it, I’m sure you understand the need for privacy,” she explained when he pressed her on it. He conceded for the moment, but still his fingers itched to read the plain looking notebook. He filled in where she had blanks regarding the first war’s trials-- there were many but hardly fair, and some managed to escape them entirely through their family name or influence.

“That happened with Mr. Malfoy, didn’t it? Buying his way out of prison?” she asked quietly, setting down her knife for a moment to relax a hand cramp. He felt uncomfortable speaking about someone he considered to be a friend-- a terrible person, perhaps, but still a friend.

“It appeared so. He gave excuses that were very thin, and they were accepted without much attention,” he finally said, looking away. Hermione eyed him oddly, and he shifted uncomfortably.

“I won’t ask you to speak on them further. You must be close to them, at least a little” she murmured, and he jerked. She noticed and swiftly changed the subject. “Harry’s eyes shake just a bit if he’s lying. He doesn’t realize he does it.”

It was clearly an attempt at a save from getting too personal, and he allowed it with trepidation.

“Normally I notice his incredible obviousness over his eyes, but duly noted,” he said with some amusement, and Hermione smiled.

“I’ve noticed some of the other professors have little tells as well. Professor McGonagall’s accent gets just a slight bit thicker and her voice lighter, Professor Vector uses more jargon when she wants to throw me off. I’m pretty sure Professor Dumbledore favors his left side of his mouth if he’s saying something purposefully enigmatic to us. It’s infuriating when he does,” she continued. Snape quirked his lips.

“Well noticed. I can hardly wait for you approval to join the Order, you’ll pick up on everyone so quickly. Gryffindors are notoriously bad at hiding their emotions, after all. One day you might try to decipher a different house,” he said.

“I’ve noticed more than Gryffindors!” Hermione protested, though the look on her face was not one of offense. “I can tell when Draco is bullshitting me.”

“Language, Miss Granger. And, pray tell, what is his tell?” Snape drawled out his question, positive she was bluffing. After all, he knew the boy extremely well as his godfather and makeshift uncle.

“He makes more physical comments when he’s doing it for show. About my hair, my teeth, my height-- easier targets so he can think more about getting out of the situation, I think. Actually, may I ask you something, sir?”

He knew the questions would pour in again soon, and he gave her a look that she may continue.

“Is Draco related to you in any way?” she asked, and despite her gentle innocence in the question, Snape’s protective anger flared up again. From the look on her face, the realized instantly that she had asked too personal a question, and was stuttering while attempting to backtrack while Snape advanced on her, towering over her smaller form with ease. Even without a wand, he was intimidating and sneered cruelly. 

“Just have to know every little personal detail, don’t you Miss Granger? Tell me, is it just me you’re sniffing after or are you this intrusive with every adult? Is there any part of my life you are not trying to become intimately familiar with? What the hell gave you the right to even begin this research, hm? Is it truly research, or were you just looking for blackmail, perhaps anything to explain away any nastiness I send your way? Perhaps you should learn to stop shoving your nose into other people’s business before anything bad were to happen,” he snarled, and she flinched at his harsh words.

“I… perhaps you’re right. I was reading old newspapers, trying to find connections that may be overlooked, but as usual I got too into my own project and did more harm than good. I won’t take up any more of your time, I imagine I bring nothing new to the table anyway. Thank you for allowing me to help with the ingredients,” she said mechanically, her voice detached and her eyes trying desperately not to water. Her face went blank and she grabbed her bag and walked stiffly out the classroom door, making it to the nearest girl’s bathroom before she broke down crying.

Snape deflated instantly when he heard her suppressed sobs just outside his door. He knew she was not trying to pry out of curiosity, but out of concern for the war. But he absolutely did not want to discuss with her his genuine connections to Death Eater families. 

Perhaps it would be best to discontinue their strange discussion and potions sessions, he thought, and sighed to himself. It would be a damn waste if they did.

\--

 

“Stupid Hermione. Of course you wasted years trying to being the biggest damn know it all to ever exist. And for what? To know what people who lived then already knew? How could you ever think you would be worth anything here. You ruined your own damn life for nothing,” she yelled at herself in the privacy of the abandoned bathroom. 

It wasn’t even that he had been particularly mean-- just confirming what she already knew about herself. She was useless and nosy and had no right to have gone snooping to know about anyway she actually knew. She’d been fighting off the terrible feeling of having done something wrong, but she could fight it no longer. She had well and truly fucked up her life, and she couldn’t hide from it anymore.

Eventually she cried herself out and just laid on the cool tiles of the bathroom. She was not particularly concerned about the cleanliness or about being caught. After all, outside of her and Moaning Myrtle, no one ever went into that particular bathroom unless it was an emergency. But even Mrytle, who normally delighted in the misery of others, did not bother her as she laid sprawled on the far side of the bathroom, where she could quickly hide if someone came in.

Thankfully, she stayed alone as she sat up and looked at her notebook, holding all her notes from all of her observations on people, theories about connections and motivations, and spell work notes. It also contained her private diary of her time turner use and whatever notable happened to her. For instance, noticing Ron had a rather childish crush on her to his switching over to Neville, her own conflicted feelings on the matter, and her coming to terms that she would never date inside her ‘true’ age group, which was both a blessing and a curse. It was not something she wanted Snape to see at all.

Snape. She was lucky she left without him just murdering her. Hermione was adult enough to admit she had asked far too personal a question, especially after having promised herself she would detach and be less personal with him. The thought had just occurred out of the blue and she spoke without thinking. It was a clear sign that she was becoming too comfortable in his presence already.

It would be best, she told herself, if they didn’t continue their arrangement. It was completely unfair of her to expect Snape to carry her burdens with her, and he never seemed truly surprised at any information she offered. She still felt that if she knew more about the first war, she could connect some dots and make the second war go much smoother, but no one else had been willing to entertain her questions either.

With a sigh Hermione got to her feet and decided to return to her dorm. She could still be useful as a teenager going to classes as normal. Somehow.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a long one

If Snape felt any guilt about laying into Hermione, he certainly did not show it when she next saw him in the classroom. He looked cranky as ever, with his base level of annoyance already high, but his vision swept over her as he watched the students trickle in. Clearly, he didn’t care about how their meeting had ended. Hermione attempted to clamp down on the feeling of sadness that grew in her chest from that. She didn’t particularly like Snape. He wasn’t pleasant, nor kind, but it wasn’t him she found herself regretting. It was that the very sight of him just reminded her of what a fool she’d been, and for no reason.

The knowledge had well and truly agonized her over the past few days. She had abused her time turner and aged beyond her friends, she had taken more classes than she ever really needed to, she had-- well, no point in rehashing the same wounds. She felt even more alone than she had previously. Having someone know her secret had been a relief, but now felt like a blade hanging over her head. Now that she was not useful, not able to provide anything, would he tell the Headmaster? The Ministry? Would she be arrested? A whole new set of fears laid siege on her mind.

“Hermione? You haven’t eaten anything,” Harry pointed out as she found herself too focused on fretting to eat. She gently pushed the plate away, her stomach feeling tied in knots.

“Yeah, I’m just a little under the weather,” she offered as an excuse, and Harry’s sharp green eyes trained on her. Even though her glamour hid her aging and most of her tiredness, he could still see some bags under her red-rimmed eyes. He frowned at what he saw.

“You know, if you ever need to talk about anything…” he offered quietly, and her heart swelled and filled with pain at his kindness. If anyone needed to talk about their problems, it was Harry. She took his hand from across the table and gave him a sappy smile.

“Thank you, Harry. I appreciate it. It’s just… a little stressful right now,” she said, and he gave her a look that meant he didn’t believe that was all but was going to drop it. Ron watched the exchanged and nudged Hermione gently.

“Hey, how about we take a weekend off? It’s a Hogsmeade weekend, we don’t have any tests next week. Whatever has you stressed out, I’m sure you’ll figure it out. You’re the brightest witch of our age, after all,” he teased, but smiled genuinely. Hermione nudged him back with a smile of her own.

“Actually, that sounds lovely. I was actually wanting to go to Honeydukes, if we could,” she mentioned, and both boys grinned. Their straightlaced friend typically didn’t like sweets, but she had been craving chocolate all the more with her feelings of loneliness. The extra time with her boys could only be helpful.

They spent the evening in the common room, both Harry and Ron being extra silly to try to alleviate her unexplained episode of sadness, and she appreciated them all the more. It still hurt that she would probably never tell them that she was now years older, even if just a couple, but they were still loving, kind friends that she would change the world for. Snape was wrong about one thing-- she could still protect them.

The next morning, they went down to Hogsmeade with Luna, Ginny, and Neville, and Hermione was amused to see that the small blonde with starry eyes was capturing Harry’s attention. Secretly, she thought they might be a good match. She was a little confused, though, since it appeared Luna and Ginny were dating, but the three of them were all making eyes at each other and she decided it wasn’t her business. Neither was the shy way Neville and Ron brushed hands in the carriage and both went red to the ears.

Once in town, she did indeed go to Honeyduke’s with her friends, stocking up on all kinds of chocolate and candy. However, it was a little too loud for her, so she quickly excused herself to the bookstore, letting her friends remain behind.

Someone still followed her.

Draco Malfoy waited until Hermione was in a corner alone before he approached. He didn’t know she had long noticed his presence, so he was disappointed at her lack of reaction when he suddenly pulled the book out of her hand.

“Historic Rebellions from Goblins On? Planning a revolt, Granger?” he sneered, and she snatched it back, brushing off where his fingers had been. 

“Not that it’s any concern of yours, Malfoy, but I happen to actually enjoy history and Binns is hardly teaching what we should know at this level,” she sniffed, and he rolled his eyes.   
“Whatever. Umbridge is going to use that as proof that you were planning a rebellion all along,” he threatened, and she fluttered her eyelashes at him innocently.

“Whatever are you talking about, Draco? I’ve never planned a rebellion in my life-- I’m just a history lover,” she said airly, and he grabbed her arm.

“Don’t play coy with me, Granger, you aren’t nearly pretty enough to pull of being stupid. I know you and Potter are planning something-- how could you not be? After all, you know that you’ll all be killed off sooner than later,” he said in a hushed whisper, so none of the other patrons noticed his threat. Hermione only looked at him with boredom, despite his hand crushing her arm enough to leave bruises.

“By you, or your liar of a father? Either way, I fail to see much to fear there. But maybe a rebellion would be a good idea, if just to keep average psychopaths like you out of power. Thanks for the idea,” she drawled in a way she had learned from years of dealing with Snape, and he went red with anger.

“Don’t presume to know anything about me or my father, Granger,” he hissed, and she met his gaze with a fierce intensity that set him off guard.

“Follow your own damn advice, Malfoy, and don’t presume about me,” she snapped back, then took a steadying breath. “It’s a shame, you know-- I think if you’d ever been given a chance you could have had a lot of potential,” she lamented, and left before he could think of a comeback. 

Hermione stewed on the interaction later, at the Three Broomsticks with her friends. Maybe Malfoy was paranoid, but they really should be planning something… but maybe not a full event. Something much better. Hermione looked at Harry, and when he met her eye he was bewildered and slightly frightened by the calculating look she was giving him-- but even more so by the wide smile that followed.

“Harry, I need to talk to you tonight,” she said, and then left after his agreement. She had planning to do, another purpose, and a better chance.

\--

Snape watched the interaction between Hermione and Draco from across the shop, wishing he’d been able to hear what had taken place. He was relieved Hermione had made it out unscathed-- he felt his godson was going more unpredictable by the day. He was still only fifteen, but that only meant he had the rage of hormones spurring him on. Still, the look of confused grief was unmistakable on his face, so Snape approached.

“Draco,” he greeted, and his godson jumped at his presence.

“Uncle Severus, good to see you,” he greeted in return, but his eyes still crinkled with confusion.

“I saw you speaking with the Granger girl-- what trouble are you getting into? I need to know to bail you out later,” Snape drawled, looking over the bookcases. Draco was quiet at his side.

“I don’t know, I was trying to get information from her. Umbridge is sure they’re trying to start a rebellion, she wants me to be her student informant. I hate it, really, but like hell I want my hands cut up by her blood quills,” he admitted, and Snape raised a brow. He hated the toad of a woman who was hurting his students-- even he wasn’t that cruel. Not to mention the legal aspect.

“Your subtlety needs work. Clearly Granger won that battle,” he remarked, and Draco just looked more stricken.

“She said something… unexpected, I guess. It just caught me off guard,” he said, and when Snape did not reply he eventually continued. “She said it was a shame I had never been given a chance, because I had potential. What the hell does that even mean?” 

Though Draco was attempting to look like he was just confused by her words, Snape could see that he was truly affected by them. Granger had hit a nerve, and it just reminded him of their talk about Slytherin. Clever girl, he mused, but shook off the thought.

“It means whatever you want. Don’t let her get too deep in your head, Draco. She’s your enemy, after all,” he said enigmatically, and left his godson to think.

Clever girl indeed.

\--

Harry refused, at first. But then he thought about it, and with Ron, Luna, and Ginny encouraging him, he finally broke down and agreed…. He would teach a defense against the dark arts study group. Hermione was elated-- Harry was a great leader when he let himself, they needed to get more students on their side, and they all needed an actual education. She was quite proud, and a lot amused that it was Malfoy’s fault

She mentally took notes of everyone’s Patronuses-- just in case they would be needed to identify who was communicating. Luna’s cute rabbit hopped wildly through the air, Ginny’s horse galloped close behind. Harry’s stag watched from his side, and he tried to keep the emotion off his face and let pride shine through. Neville and Ron both had dogs of different breeds playing together on the floor, and Hermione readied her own wand. 

From the ivy wand emerged a fluttering of feathers, and a fierce hawk emerged. She was surprised, but elated nonetheless. It instantly flew to roost in the roof, watching everything carefully, before she cancelled the spell. 

The following lessons went well as Harry grew into his role as a leader, and everyone else learned how to sneak. She played down the praise for her communication galleons, but she was thinking it could be a useful bit of magic if she could expand on it. She was a little guilty to admit she wanted to recreate You-Know-Who’s diary, sans an evil man inside. 

It was when she was in the library looking at linking charms and communication in magic that Snape approached. He crept up like a shadow in her tucked away area-- she liked the silence it afforded for being out of the way.

“Miss Granger,” he drawled, and she looked up with some surprise and trepidation.

“Professor Snape, good evening,” she greeted, eyeing him warily. He silently put up wards around them to ensure privacy.

“Potter will be learning Occlumency from me, but you are going to truly teach him,” he told her, and she furrowed her brow.

“Excuse me?” she asked, and he sighed heavily.

“You are well aware of our… mutual dislike. Potter cannot respect me or the art enough to learn from me. He would fail out of spite. Ensure his arrogance does not cost him this valuable skill. Not only does the Headmaster believe he needs to learn to seal his mind, but… given your proclivity for breaking the rules, you may wish to hide it easier. I cannot guarantee that the troll of a pink zit would not go beyond trying to smash into your minds to find out what you are doing,” he warned, and Hermione sat up straighter.

“I’ll do why I can. But why? And what do you know, sir?” she asked, and he smirked.

“I know that you Gryffindors are insufferably not subtle at all when you attempt to build an army, but that comes as no surprise. Do try to keep from being caught, won't you?” he asked with tired resignation. She shook her head, though, and bit her lip before speaking.

“No, I know the professors are aware of our study group. Why is it important that Harry learn Occlumency?” she asked and he looked at his nails as if bored.

“It is hardly your concern. You know that it is important, that should be enough,” he sniffed, and she scowled as she grabbed her books and prepared to leave.

“Is that how they treat you, their little spy? I would be nasty too, if I were treated so condescendingly,” she retorted, and Snape advanced on her, pressing her against the bookcase by his sheer presence. In the back of his mind, he wondered if his godson would ever be able to reach his level of intimidation and doubted it. Hermione’s brown eyes were wide as she stood against the bookcase, and she trembled.

“I’m sorry, that was uncalled for, I shouldn’t have---”

“Do not EVER mention that again,” he told her with clipped words, cutting off her rambling apology. “Teach Potter and stop asking questions. They won't make life any easier.”  
And with that, he left. Hermione peeled herself off the wall, chiding herself for forgetting how dangerous her professor truly was. She made a note to herself to find a way to approach Harry to help him after his lessons started, and left the library.

It was only because of the adrenaline rush that she ended up having the stupid dream.

That evening, Hermione dreamed of being in the library again. She was looking for someone through a strange maze of books, but she wasn’t sure who. She just had to find them. She rounded a corner, and arms reached out and pinned her against a wall. The scent of sandalwood and simmering potions reached her nose, and dark hair tickled against her cheeks.

“Hermione,” Professor Snape murmured, and the rough timbre of his voice sent shivers down the young woman’s spine.She found herself unable to move, but wanted to reach out and touch the thick wool of his coat, or his dangling hair. His hand reached up instead, pressing against her throat. Even though she was choking and couldn’t breathe, she still couldn’t fight a moan from escaping when his lips caputured her. He tasted of black coffee and bitter chocolate and she wanted the keep the taste in her mouth, even as she gasped for air. His other hand came around her throat, fully strangling her.

“I did not want to do this,” he told her, sorrowful, but she couldn’t find it in her to be mad as she blacked out, and woke up gasping.

“‘Erminny…?” came Lavender’s sleepy voice from across the room, and Hermione caught her breath.

“Sorry, Lavender, bad dream,” she apologized, and the other girl made a sound before falling back asleep. Hermione got out of her bed and threw on her robe, knowing there would be no way in hell she could sleep. She grabbed her notebook and checked the back page, which she had charmed with a sort of Marauder's Map. It looked like the coast was clear, so she scrambled down to the grounds.

She could only think one thing: what the fuck was that?

Hermione felt disgusted from the attraction she had felt during the dream, how wanting and needy she was to feel his touch. He’d smelled nice, she supposed but that didn’t excuse her weird dream.

She tried to dissect it, strip away any meaning, and leave it as just an odd occurrence. He’d scared her, he was a terrifying person. He could likely kill her, if he had to. And she was lonely and had, well, urges. They had just gotten mixed up was all. 

A branch crunched, and Hermione looked up from her outdoor alcove and saw Professor Snape himself, hunched over and shuffling to the castle. He looked like death, and Hermione hated her instinct to help as she got up from where he hadn’t noticed her and approached him.

“Professor?” she asked quietly, and he suddenly had his wand under her throat, his hand on the other side. Hermione gulped, raising her hands to show that she was not a threat. He closed his eyes and let her go as he swallowed a sigh. For her part, she hastily shoved her still fresh dream further down as his actions brought it to the forefront of her mind.

“Of fucking course. Go way, Miss Granger. I should give you detention,” he said tiredly, and she looked at her slippered feet.

“Okay, give me detention. But let me help you first,” she said boldly. Dream or not, he was clearly not doing well and needed assistance. He glared harshly at her, but it was weakened by his need to lean against the wall and his heavy breathing.

“You can do nothing here. Leave me now,” he bit out, but she ignored him and pulled out her wand, running a basic diagnosis check. Her eyes went wide. He growled at her impudence.

“You have three broken ribs, Professor. I need to summon Madam Pomfrey!” she objected, and Snape hissed.

“Don’t! If you insist on forcing your presence on me, you may escort me to my chambers. I have potions to help there. Then you will leave and never mention this again,” he demanded, and Hermione nodded, taking his arm on his non-injured side. They did not speak as she helped him carefully down the stairs, trying to monitor how his breathing sounded to tell if he had pierced a lung.

For his part, Snape was secretly grateful for the help, though he would never mention it. He despised ever being seen as weak, and he despised the girl for refusing to leave him alone. It was a tense silence as they walked to the dungeons and at a juncture that Snape often patrolled, Hermione paused and pulled out her notebook with her free hand, opening to the back. 

“Okay, it’s clear all the way down,” she whispered to him and tucked it back into her waistband, and Snape frowned at her.

“How would you know that?” he asked, and she gave him an unrepentant grin.

“An old friend,” she answered mysteriously, and he grumbled. He hated that notebook, really. True to word, Hermione guided him safely and quickly to his office and he quickly shoved her off.

“I’ve made it, leave now,” he demanded, and she put her hands on her lips, in full mothering mode.

“You can still barely stand. Why won't you let me just help you? It's not like I’m about to go blabbing it to the whole school. But as potions is one of my most thorough classes, I’d like to keep my professor able to work,” she retorted and he repressed an annoyed groan. 

“Look, I have healing potions inside. I’m going to down those and sleep. You are not needed. Return to your dorm immediately or I will start docking points,” he ground out, and she frowned at him.

“Fine. This time,” she said ominously, and turned on her heel. He watched her leave, sneaking down a hardly used corridor which would provide a significant shortcut to the library. 

“Brat,” he muttered and entered his office, summoning the potions he would need and chugging them down. He winced as he felt his ribs begin to lace together again, and went to his room to collapse on his bed. He magicked off his boots and coat and sighed as he realized it would be difficult to sleep that night.

Not that it was ever easy.

Still, he laid in his comfortable bed and willed himself to relax. At least it was just an accident from fetching potions ingredients in the forest. His master had done much worse to him before, and likely would again in the future.

Just as he started to finally sleep into slumber, a wild haired woman came to mind and with that, he was out.

It was because she had been so insistent on helping him, he would later rationalize, that he dreamed of her. She had forced him into dealing with her, and that was so fresh, so that was why she appeared like a succubus in the night.

He stirred in his bed as he heard someone outside his door-- but when he went to investigate, it was not his same rooms. They were different in an odd and dreamy way, proportions different and lax. He found Hermione sitting in his armchair, book in her lap and smile on her face. She was wearing her school robe open, and did not appear to be wearing anything underneath. It was her older face that greeted him, with a warm and soft smile he felt uncomfortable seeing. The entire scene was uncomfortable.

“Severus,” she greeted, rising. Her robe still provided her with modesty, though he could see the edges of her taut breasts and flat stomach before the robe closed over her hips. Her hair was wild but soft, and her eyes regarded him with a fire he did not expect. He could not approach her-- even in a dream it was wholly wrong, but the awareness of the dream did not make it end.

She took a step forward but stopped, pain and confusion flitting across her face. A small streak of blood poured from the corner of her mouth, and her hand went to her chest and came away bloody, revealing a nasty gash from the tip of her shoulder down to her hip, arcing out towards her neck and navel. 

“Oh,” she whispered, and collapsed into his arms. He knew that gash, he knew that curse, and the fear of it woke him suddenly. 

He could only hope it wasn’t a premonition.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry’s occlumency lessons were not going well on either front. He had told Hermione about his difficulty with them from Snape, but her tactics were not going well either. He either wasn’t really practicing, or wasn’t making much effort at all. It was one night as Christmas approached that she realized it.

Harry had awoken with a terrible vision about Mr. Weasley being attacked in the Ministry, and it was this vision that saved his life. Harry and the Weasley kids went home to the Burrow, to St. Mungos, and Hermione was left to find out in the morning, feeling extremely put out. A snide voice in the back of her mind reminded her that she didn’t tell them important stuff either so she had no right to be upset, but it did not stop her from wanting to cry anyway. She also loved Mr. Weasley, and worried about his condition.

Hermione went to her usual secluded alcove outside to cry it out, not having wanted to bother anyone else with her emotional state. Of course, the last person she wanted to see her crying was who found her.

“What, did Pot-head and the Weasel leave you for each other?” sneered Draco Malfoy, and Hermione furiously rubbed the tears out of her eyes, screeching with frustration.

“Not now, Malfoy, piss off!” she yelled at him, and made to get away. She wasn’t in any state to deal with his antics. But despite him being younger than her, he was still bigger and stronger and a Quidditch player, so he was able to block her exit easily.

“Not so fast, Granger. I want to watch you cry. It’s what you deserve,” he sneered, and Hermione roughly shoved him away from herself.

“Malfoy, for God’s sake! Leave me alone! Not every interaction has to be some creepy threat!” she yelled, frustrated, and he frowned.

“It always has been, why stop now?” he asked, leering at her but not fully meaning it. She looked at him sadly, as she had before, and shook her head.

“Why continue? If it weren’t for you constantly being rude to me and my friends, you could be a half decent person. Did it occur to you that maybe I don’t want to fight? You or anyone else I’ve known since I was a kid?” she said, speaking softly. This disarmed Draco again, and she slipped by him, going for the more secluded abandoned girl’s restrooms to finish her cry.

She was so nearly there, too, when she ran quite literally into someone else.

“Oh, for the love of God,” she muttered under her breath as she looked up to see Snape looking down at her, confusion clear on his face.

“Miss Granger? I would have thought you would be at St. Mungos,” he said, and she pulled herself to her feet with a frown.

“Yes, well, that would require anyone remembering me in the commotion, or thinking that I might care to see Mr. Weasley. I do not count as family,” she said curtly, and he eyed her for a moment. She was clearly upset, her lip had been worried to where it had nearly bled. Her eyes were red rimmed and she looked like hell, honestly. 

“Come, follow me to my office,” he ordered and walked off before she could agree. She struggled to catch up, but easily met his long strides despite her shorter legs-- the boys were so much taller, she had gotten used to walking fast. They reached his office quickly, and he let her inside and closed the door behind them.

To her surprise, he then opened the door again to his private quarters, and she followed with mild hesitation. He gestured to the couch and then left into another room, where she could hear the sounds of tea being prepared. She sat delicately on the edge, as if the entire room was going to collapse if she touched anything. 

She hadn’t really thought to look around, last time, so she took the chance while she had it. The room was lit brighter than she expected, but generally was still a little dark. The furniture was somewhat plush, and the couch was comfortable and had a soft throw blanket on it. But what really caught her eye were the walls covered from floor to tall ceiling with books. 

Despite being shown the couch, Hermione could not resist getting up to look at the titles, and felt a pang of envy as she read some of titles. They were extremely rare and niche titles ranging from potions to arithimacy to transfiguration. She nearly swooned when she recognized some of them-- and their importance. Perhaps more surprising was the amount of Muggle literature more centered towards the bottom of the shelves, but still well cared for.

Snape entered again with a tea service floating behind him. He raised a brow at her and took a seat in the armchair.

“I won’t say I’m surprised. Be careful not to touch any on the shelf nearest the hallway-- they are fairly dangerous. That shelf is more benign,” he mentioned, and Hermione took her seat with a slight blush.

“Sorry, sir,” she apologized, but he waved it off.

“No need. I knew they would garner your attention. Now, Miss Granger. I’m going to offer you a very rare opportunity to let it out. I know that you are understandably upset and frustrated given last night’s events. There are not many here who would be able to bear knowledge of your exploits, but you clearly need to speak with someone,” he explained, and she stared at him for a moment. He handed her a cup of tea-- chamomile and lavender. She could tell by the smell.

“Sir?” she said, confused. She looked at her tea and and back at him, feeling quite small. Suddenly she felt more like a child, and she rested the cup against her knee. He took a sip of the tea himself. It was a relaxing blend he had made on his own. He was quiet, but raised a brow towards her. He wasn’t going to explain himself twice. She seemed to be ready to give in, though, and after a couple more moments and some sips of her tea she started to speak.

“You know, I spent a lot of time at the Burrow this last summer. Ginny had asked if I could stay a few weeks, so I did, and that is the most loving and sweet family I have ever known. Mr. Weasley asked me a million questions about mundane Muggle objects, but he was infinitely interested in just me as a person, too. He’s a very gentle and kind man, who did not deserve to be attacked at all. Let alone to that extent… Professor McGonagall informed me this morning but had to leave on business right after. Why Mr. Weasley? And why was he at the MInistry so late at night?” she asked, and Snape sighed heavily. 

“He was there on Order business. The Dark Lord found him, but I believe he was left alive to send a message of warning,” he answered. Hermione furrowed her brows and took a sip of her tea. He could see her mind whirling.

“That… that’s worrisome. But Professor, how… how did Harry know? He should not have any way of knowing,” she said, and for once Snape did not have an answer for her. She was looking at him expectantly, but he stayed quiet as her mind continued to work. “Is that why the Headmaster wanted him to learn Occlumency?”

“Perhaps. He has not shown much improvement since our lessons began. I trust you have given it effort,” he said, eyes focused on hers, and she nodded.

“I’ve asked him to meditate, to try to focus on clearing his mind, to focus on walls, or the feeling of someone else in his mind and how to move it away from important things, everything I’ve ever read I’ve tried to impart to him, but I don’t think he really put in the effort he told me he did,” she admitted, looking frustrated again. He knew she would have given it her full Granger effort, but no one really could have known if Potter was putting in the effort he needed to.

“I’m afraid this was more than a message to the Order. What if… what if it was more a test on Harry?” she admitted quietly. Once again, Snape did not have an answer, but privately wondered the same thing. 

“You cannot let him make any actions on his own if this happens again. He needs to meet with Dumbledore or Minerva, any adult. Do not let him run out on his own,” he instructed her, and Hermione nodded, a little paler than before.

“There’s something else. I think Draco Malfoy may be up to something,” she admitted, and he raised his brow.

“I was under the impression from him that it was you who was up to something, telling him enigmatic things,” he retorted, and she snorted in response.

“Ah yes, only honesty can be enigmatic to you lot,” she said, and he grinned predatorily.

“To Slytherins?” he asked.

“To those who want everything shrouded in ten layers of secrecy, where you need a decoder ring to figure anything out,” she countered. He couldn’t help but bark out a laugh, startling her with the rich baritone of his laughter. What startled her more was that she rather liked it. That was a thought to shove aside, she mentally chided.

“A fair point to be made,” he conceded, and she smiled warmly at seeing his own smile. It was an odd, peaceful moment that she hadn’t expected-- and neither had he. All too suddenly they thought of their respective dreams, and looked away. Hermione with a pretty blush to her cheeks.

“What is it you believe Mr. Malfoy to be up to?” he asked, and she shrugged.

“To be honest, I don’t really know. He hasn’t directly threatened me, but he’s been extra nasty lately. I don’t think he’s called me a mudblood for a while, at least,” she said, and noticed that Snape flinched at the word.

“Do not speak that word near me, it is foul and nothing that should be used to describe yourself,” he said strongly, and she was surprised by his response.

“Yes, sir. Thank you. But Malfoy, I think he’s gotten a bit more physical about it,” she said, and explained how he had managed to corner her and pin her and grabbed her arms. 

“It may sound odd or vain, but… I wonder if he might have a crush on me. It would be a very childish way to express it, but it makes sense if he’s supposed to despise everything about me,” she admitted quietly, and Snape paused, considering what she had said. A beat later, she cursed to herself and leaned forward resting her head against her hands in an expression of defeat.

“And I think I went and encouraged it earlier,” she growled, and told him what the last thing she’d told Draco was-- that she thought he could be half decent if he was nice and that she didn’t want to fight him. Now Snape well and truly laughed, and could hardly contain himself at seeing her incredulous expression. She started to laugh herself just at the sight of him doubling over in his chair, face stretched with laughter.

“Good lord, you practically begged him to fall in love with you!” he cackled, and she swatted his leg.

“I did not! I’ve just been encouraging him to be nicer! I didn’t think of it in that way!” she defended, and he wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes.

“Lord knows I’ve needed a laugh like that, oh, thank you Miss Granger,” he said, and she smiled at him despite herself. It felt like a privilege to hear his laughter, and it gave her a surge of warmth in her chest. Even if it was at her expense.

“You’re welcome,” she found herself murmuring and he didn’t seem to notice. Instead, his smile faded and the look of world weariness appeared again.

“That could create… complications, if that is the case. It may make you a target, even if you never tried for that. You should be wary of future interactions. I don’t know what he might be capable of. He has been increasing unpredictable,” he warned, and Hermione nodded. That was nothing she didn’t already know.

“Mm, it’s a shame, you know. I really do think he could be a good person, I could see being friends with him. If he didn’t hate me purely based on what he thinks is inferior breeding,” she sighed, then grinned cheekily. “He still wouldn’t be my type, though.”

At that, Snape snorted. It was an undignified sound, but he still quirked a grin.

“And what a fascinating discussion that would be, Miss Granger. At any rate, I’ll see one issue rectified. The holidays are nearly upon us, go on and gather your things and I will escort you to the Burrow so you may rejoin your friends. You ought to have been there all along,” he told her, taking her cup from her and banishing it back to the kitchen. She looked at him wide eyed from where he stood over her, afraid to trust him.

“Really, sir? That would be very lovely, thank you,” she told him, and stood up, facing him with a full smile. They stood close to each other for a few moments, both having an odd moment of deja vu. Snape was the first to recover, shaking off a feeling of fear that suddenly overcame him. 

“Go on, Miss Granger. Be back here within an hour and I shall grant you Floo access. It will take that long to set it up,” he instructed, and led her to the door. Once there, she turned around again, this time with a much shier smile.

“You can call me Hermione, sir,” she told him before slipping out, leaving him shaking his head at her impropriety and entirely ignoring his own by having brought her into his living quarters once again. He also ignored the part of his mind telling him that all his other upset students would have been dealt with just in his office. It was a sensitive matter, he justified, that could not be interrupted so easily.

But even that logic did not explain the odd feeling he received from her turning her full smile on him, bright and vibrant and warm. It stirred a part of him that had died years ago, one he forgot how to name or understand and did not want to think about much longer. He turned to his fireplace instead, and began the process of reconnecting his Floo into the main network for a limited time. 

He did not think about why he would go through such effort for a girl he decidedly did not care about one way or the other.

Meanwhile, Hermione was frantically packing for the Christmas holidays. She needed to make sure she had all the books she needed, including studying up more on nonverbal spells so she could discuss them with Harry-- their classes really should be focusing on them at this point, or at least putting out the framework for it. She also grabbed her notebook, a packet of fresh pens, and her coziest sweaters, and put a grumpy Crookshanks in his cat carrier. Satisfied that she had all she would need for the next few weeks, and after dropping off her homework that she had completed weeks earlier, Hermione ventured down to the dungeons again without incident.

Snape glared at the orange fluff that was glaring out of his box.

“What on earth is that?” he asked, at which Crookshanks growled. Hermione frowned at him, turning up her nose.

“His name is Crookshanks. He’s half Kneazle and my familiar,” she said somewhat defensively. He rolled his eyes and lead her to the fireplace and handed her a pot of ashes.

“Keep a strong hold on your cat and get out of the way quickly, I will send your things after you,” he instructed and Hermione nodded, and took a pinch of powder from the offered jar.

“Yes sir, and thank you again. It means a lot to me, I consider myself owing you a favor,” she told him, eyes serious. He frowned and looked over her head, trying not to sigh.

“Keep from getting into even more trouble and I will consider it even, girl. Now off with you, I still have classes to teach and papers to grade,” he scolded, and she left quickly. 

On the other end of the Floo, Hermione arrived to open arms pulling her into an embrace. Red hair and black hair mixed in her vision, and she heard Crookshanks yowl as he dropped from her grip. There was an overwhelming amount of chatter, to the point that Hermione could no longer distinguish voices from each other. She attempted to pull the boys further from the fireplace or yell at them, but it was lost in the cacophony and they all got pushed over into the floor when a black figure emerged from the fireplace.

“For Merlin’s sake, children, out of the floor!” Snape barked, yanking Hermione up by her arm as her two best friends scrambled to their feet. They looked utterly unrepentant for having caused all the chaos, but the presence of the dour potions professor certainly lent a calmness to the atmosphere. Hermione brushed herself off with an apologetic look to her professor, who just rolled his eyes. 

“Molly, I came to check on Arthur. I have more potions for him, and I believe that Miss Granger had been left behind accidentally. I am sure you are not opposed to my rectifying the situation,” he said, addressing the matriarch who smiled happily.

“Of course, Severus! I’ll take you up to his room at St. Mungos-- limited access and all. Hermione, dear, I’m sure Ginny will love to have you stay in her room again, go on and put your things away,” she instructed and lead Professor Snape up the stairs. Ron and Harry watched them go before hugging Hermione tightly again.

“Oh Merlin, I’m so sorry we forgot to get you! Things were happening so quickly, and we didn’t think Dad would make it,” Ron explained, voice cracking. Even though Hermione wanted to be upset with them for not thinking at her, she still hugged them tight.

“It’s alright, I know it’s been stressful as ever. I’m glad he seems to be recovering, isn’t he?” she asked, and was brought up to date on Arthur’s condition. She was not surprised to learn that Snape had been the one to supply the antidote, but was shocked at how her friends highly doubted Snape until Arthur had pulled through-- they had been convinced he was trying to finish the job.

“How dare you, Harry! Professor Snape has done nothing but saved your life every time the chance has been given. He may be rude, but he is not a murderer. You ought to feel ashamed for ever thinking he could hurt Mr. Weasley. And Ron, I know you don’t like him but he’s been close with your parents for years-- they’ve said as much. How could you ever think he would want to hurt your dad?” she lectured, feeling guilty on their behalf.

Snape was by no means a nice person, she knew that clearly. But he had never let them down in times when they needed him-- as a professor, they had an extreme sense of caution regarding dangerous and sometimes fatal ingredients. He threw himself in front of a werewolf to save them even after being stunned by the children. Hell, he’d been trying to countercurse Harry’s broom for him back during their first year.

“Sorry, Hermione… you’re right. But come on, he is right nasty all the time! I think he gets off on making us think he’s about to kill us,” Ron whispered conspiratorially, and Hermione swatted his arm with a startled laugh. After she chided his rudeness the trio slipped into their comfortable friendship once again, with the added chaos that was the Weasley household. They all welcomed Hermione and apologized for not having grabbed her, but after the third reassurance of Mrs. Weasley, Hermione was starting to feel agitated. 

Thankfully Fred and George were able to provide a distraction.

“Hermione! Our dear princess,” started George.

“Do we have a delight to show you,” finished Fred. 

Hermione followed them up to their room and lab combo, and the rambunctious twins had a great time showing off their prototype of Skivving Snackboxes-- sickly treats to help you get out of class. At first she wanted to roll her eyes or tell them off, but the look of calculation and glee that came across her face instead was something that intrigued and frightened Fred and George.

“You boys are so brilliant, I could kiss you!” she declared as she looked through the boxes, each carefully labeled with the effects of the delicious looking treats. The boys looked at each other and waggled their brows suggestively.

“Well coming from a witch as lovely as yourself, that would be acceptable payment,” they said together, grinning mischievously. Neither was prepared for her look of consideration before actually grabbing them both by the collar to pull them down and kiss their cheeks.

“There! You’re brilliant!” she said, and then pulled out her notebook. “Fred, George. George, Fred. How would you like to try to avoid the biggest amount of trouble in your life?” 

She told them of the plan she had just come up with-- Not only helping students avoid Umbridge’s classes, but making Umbridge avoid her own classes. It was risky, knowingly poisoning a teacher, but Fred and George were absolutely on board.

“Hermione, you’re so brilliant!” decreed Fred with a wide grin.

“We could kiss you!” George followed up, and both boys quickly smooched her lips before she could scramble away. Her face went instantly red and she shoved them both off and ran down to Ginny’s room, thoroughly embarrassed. They had been echoing her words of excitement earlier, but those boys always did know how to take it a step too far. It felt odd to her to kiss her best friend’s brothers, who felt like her own family in a way. Not to say she didn’t enjoy the quick peck but… it wasn’t right either. It felt off in a way beyond just being teased-- they just did not feel right to her.

Hermione knew she would be enduring teasing from the twins for a while, and sighed to herself. It wasn’t the worst first kiss in the world, she supposed. 

The next day, after a long night with Ginny talking about her relationships with both Harry and Luna and how that worked and was going (extremely well, Ginny had enthused), Hermione joined Harry and Molly in going over to the Burrow. Harry desperately wanted to spend more time with Sirius, Molly wanted to clean the house for a Christmas celebration there, and Hermione didn’t want to leave Harry alone.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like Sirius-- she did, most times. But she was afraid of his influence on Harry and his thrill for danger crossing over. She would never mention it to Harry out of fear of him cutting her out of his life or worse, making a petty decision based on it. However, when they had made a Floo call to Sirius regarding Dumbledore’s Army, Hermione had half hoped he would have talked Harry out of it, or at least into toning it down. Sirius wanted to increasing the visibility of their resistance and even nearly got caught himself.

It was worrisome at the very least.

Harry did appreciate her coming with, though, he told her later when they were cleaning a larger bedroom for the twins to use when they came by later.

“I’m glad you’re here, Hermione. You’ve been like a sister to me the past couple of years and I want my family to all get along. Also… I feel so nervous with him still. There are so many things I want to ask him but I don’t want to overwhelm him, but at the same time, I’m not sure if he really understands either,” he quietly admitted, and Hermione put her arm around his shoulders.

“Oh, Harry. You know you couldn’t bother Sirius if you tried. He loves you dearly and is just as unsure in this situation,” she told him reassuringly, wishing to God Ron had been there as well. The redhead could be rude a lot of the time, but he was incredibly good at picking up on exactly what to say to people in more emotional moments whereas Hermione was too much of a problem solver to be much use. 

Still, Harry smiled and leaned against Hermione for a quiet moment of solidarity. She took comfort in them both having slow, steady heartbeats. There was no awkwardness as sometimes happened with Ron or the other Weasley brothers on occasion. It was reassuring.

“What would Luna say?” she asked him, and bit her tongue from trying not to laugh at his embarrassed face. He turned pink and shrugged.

“Honestly, probably something that would make me stop and think for a moment. I think that’s why she speaks in riddles… not to be complicated or weird, but because it makes you actually use your mind. She’s a real life saver with it sometimes,” he admitted with a dopey smile. 

“Well, I’m happy for you in that regard. This room is as clean as it gets, so let’s break for lunch,” Hermione suggested, and the two friends went off to the kitchen.


	6. Chapter 6

“Sirius, may I speak with you a moment?” Hermione asked in her patented “good girl” voice-- the kind that got teachers to trust her enough with time magic. Sirius grinned brightly at her from where he sat in the library and motioned for her to join him on the couch.

“Of course! Any friend of my godson is a friend of mine. What’s on your mind?” he asked kindly, never able to break from the roguishness that was his nature. Hermione perched on the couch edge to maintain some distance in a polite way, and gave him a small smile.

“Well, I have a gift idea for Harry. Well, and for you, but I need help making it,” she said as if she weren’t lying through her teeth. He sat up, head quirked with curiosity reminding her entirely too much of his dog form. 

“What sort of gift?” he asked.

“I wanted to make you linked journals, so you can write back and forth and communicate easier. I’m not sure if Harry would accept it easily, it may remind him of You-Know-Who’s journal from his second year, but I know he misses you dearly in the school year and you both have so much catching up to do…. I thought it might help,” she explained, sounding unsure of herself and doubting herself even as she spoke. She hated it, but knew that the self conscious teenage girl trope would be easiest to get his help with. And she needed his magical signature. He smiled warmly-- and perhaps a little condescendingly.

“Of course I’ll help. I’m sure that Harry would appreciate the gesture over any similarities. And perhaps giving us a way to talk not face to face, and more opportunity… perhaps then he can open up to me more. I know he’s still nervous,” Sirius admitted, and Hermione nodded with a consoling smile. Only because nearly every damn adult in charge of him has traumatized him, Hermione thought grimly but did not let it show.

“I know you worked on the Marauder's map, so I thought it might be nice to add a similar one to your copy-- to see if Harry is going to classes, sneaking out, that sort of thing. Help you feel more like his guardian,” she offered, slipping more into his scholarly friend than helpless girl. She’d push her glasses up her nose if she wore them. Sirius froze a moment but nodded.

“You’re right, it does still feel weird being in charge so late in his life. I think I’d like that, yes. Do you have the journals here? We could get started today, if you’d like. Christmas is coming up fast,” he offered, and Hermione nodded and excused herself to grab the journals. Matching Gryffindor colors, of course. She’d charmed a cute design on the fronts of them, minimalistic but sentimental. A black dog was on Harry’s, the shape of the Grim and his godfather. Sirius had a golden snitch on the front of his, to signify his godson’s favorite passion outside of the war. 

Sirius, of course, adored the little touches and gave Hermione a wink at her thoughtfulness, surely assuming her care went beyond her sisterly affection. Well, Harry could be the one to tell him he had two girlfriends already, and as daft as it seemed, Harry was too young for Hermione to feel comfortable dating anymore.

Not that she would feel comfortable dating anyone until the war was won.  
Hermione chatted lightly with Sirius while they worked-- letting him handle the magical heavy lifting and acting like she didn’t know how, and found he was quite open with talking about all the gossip from the Order of the Phoenix pre war and now. 

Hestia Jones had a bit of scandal in her more youthful days for taking up briefly with Andromeda Tonks-- Nymphadora’s mother, back in Hogwarts. Apparently she still only dated women and that was part of what kept her from moving up in the department. Andromeda and Ted was an odd thing, not just for the so called blood purity differences, but because Andromeda had favored women over men until him. Hestia had been devastated at the time, but the two were good friends again recently. Dumbledore, too, had only dated men as far as anyone knew-- and no one for the past sixty odd years.

Of course, Sirius did wax poetic about his own relationship with Remus until fifteen years ago, and got a sad look in his eyes at reminding himself that time of their relationship was over. Hermione had suspected, but still patted him on the back consolingly. 

He went on more about past relationships, new ones, his suspicions, and petty quables for a while while waving his wand, continuing even after finishing the journals. Hermione noticed that one name had not come up, and couldn’t quell her curiosity. 

“What about Professor Snape? Everyone has such interesting connections, but what of him?” she asked, feeling her back tingle with knowing he would be absolutely furious. Sirius, for his part, sneered in an ugly way and shrugged.

“That overgrown bat couldn’t have a half decent conversation if he tried, so no one would ever care enough about him to feel angry or attracted,” he spat, and Hermione startled at the venom in his voice. They both hated each other so much, but she still couldn’t tell why.

“That’s a strong opinion to make it sound like people feel neutral,” she ventured and he took the bait, starting to ramble while pacing-- a habit Harry also had, she noted.

“There’s no neutral about it-- hard to feel angry when the only thing he deserves is hate! He’s a nasty man, no scruples or morals, and would sell the shirt off your back if it benefited him in the slightest. I know he slimed his way into teaching your lot, but don’t trust him enough to turn your back for a second-- he’d hex you where you stand!” Sirius huffed.

“He attacked you?” Hermione asked with a shocked hand coming up to her face. Sirius barked a laugh.

“Of course he did, the nasty little Slytherin! He hexed all of us! Snivellus couldn’t stand his lot in life compared to ours, I suppose-- having friends and a future. Never bothered with the first part, so how could he secure the second? He’s a nasty brute, don’t go near him,” he warned, and Hermione dutifully nodded, looking as scared as the situation required.

“Of course. I don’t really see him outside of class. But I know he’s part of the Order, so I suppose I was just curious about why he’s so trusted then,” she said.

“Dumbledore insists we do, and he’s our leader. He’s told us that he’s our spy, and he’s given us some amount of good information, I concede. However, I still think he’s just playing us into Voldemort’s hands,” he spat, sitting down and grumpy.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you Sirius, I was just curious. I’ll be careful,” she assured him, and Sirius shook off his anger and gave her a charming smile.

“I know you will, love. You’re a good girl,” he said, and Hermione suppressed a disgusted shiver. She forced a smile and grabbed a book off the shelf.

“Thank you. I’ve got to go help Harry study now, but thank you for helping me and talking with me,” she said, taking the journals as well. Sirius jovially wished her luck and went back to staring out the window, a man bored of life.

\--

“Harry, for God’s sake, if you don’t sit your ass down and stop pacing I will strangle you and save Voldemort the trouble!” Hermione snapped from her spot on the floor, and it was enough to give Harry pause.

“I’m sorry, I’m just worried!” he defended, and she glared and snapped and pointed her fingers to the spot in front of her.

“You wouldn’t be so worked up if you could just try to relax and meditate! Trust me, Harry, this is an important skill and I know you haven’t practiced at all, please humor me,” she nearly begged. She’d been trying all break to get him to try to practice Occlumency, but he was too worried about having another vision to pay attention. Even now, as he sat, his brows were furrowed and his foot jiggled with nervous energy.

“Harry, listen to me. I know you are worried about having another vision-- so am I. But let’s try an exercise in thinking right now instead of meditating. I need you to understand the importance of trying hard here. You had a vision that Mr. Weasley was attacked, and you were the snake attacking him,” she said. Here, he flinched.

“But please understand my worry here. What if that was a test from Voldemort? To know that your mind is open to manipulate and he can put in whatever he wants? What if next time is a trap? This is why I need you to clear your mind and focus-- so he can’t manipulate you anymore than he already has.”

Harry froze and went pale, and nodded slowly. Hermione took his hands, leaning forward and putting his palms over hers.

“Now, I’m going to use magic to try to help you, okay? I’ll link our magic, and that will let me ease you into my mind and show you how I do it, which may make it easier for you. But first, I need you to clear your mind so you don’t bring anything over with you,” she explained, and he took a deep breath.

“Okay… I’ll try,” he finally relented, and Hermione gave him a genuine smile. She helped guide his breathing and felt him relaxing, and brought him slowly over to her mind.

Walls of books surrounded him, and Hermione’s voice guided him.

“Go ahead, try to grab one,” she offered, and Harry pulled a book from the shelf. It fell open, but only gibberish came out. He put it back and tried again to the same effect.

“Every book will have that response right now. Now, try saying please first,” she nudged, and Harry felt quite silly as he asked the bookcase “please.”

The book opened, and an image projected into the room like a 3-D movie. Hermione and Harry stood side by side, both prideful as they watched patronuses flying around the room. Harry, proud of his students. And Hermione, proud of her friend being a leader. The book closed itself and returned, and the walls faded away as Hermione returned him to his own mind. 

The two grinned goofily, but Hermione was quick to return to lecture mode.

“I know you won’t want anything like a library, but there are a load of options. Do what feels natural to you-- it’s like a Patronus, in a way. It requires focus and practice, but you’re a smart boy, Harry. You can do this,” she told him seriously, and he smiled sheepishly.

“I do have a question. Why did I have to say please?” he asked, and Hermione gave him a scary grin.

“Like hell Voldemort would stop to be polite” she told him, and the two burst out laughing.

\--

The Order held a meeting just before Christmas, lending a somber feeling to the cheerfully decorated Headquarters. Hermione felt an odd pull of happiness at seeing Snape arrive, though he looked dreadful. The holidays were wearing on him heavily, and Molly’s coddling was only annoying him, even if he would never tell her off. He made eye contact with Hermione and raised a brow over dinner. The meeting would be after, and Hermione found herself wishing desperately to talk to him. Spending time with Harry and the Weasley’s had been lovely, but she did miss their open sessions, even if she had become more guarded again. She found herself wanting his opinion and approval for the several things she’d been working on-- sans time turner.

She hadn’t expected him to actually visit afterward.

It was near midnight when they finally came out of the meeting, and Hermione had been studying in her room when a single soft knock grabbed her attention. She used a peephole spell then let in Snape, who was disillusioned outside her door.

“Sneaking around, Professor?” she teased, and he growled in response.

“Update me on Potter,” he grunted instead of playing around. Not that she expected anything less.

“I think I’ve gotten him to understand the severity of his need to learn, which is a late start but better than never. He’s still having difficulty, but it’s starting to take shape,” she reported. Snape nodded, and leaned against the door for a moment.

“You’re exhausted, sir, please have a seat,” she offered, and to her surprise he did without fighting.

“You’ve been making eyes at me all evening, witch. Go on, tell me your discoveries,” he said as if that were a normal activity they shared. She supposed it was, but still blushed at his wording. She did not make eyes at people.

“You won’t like it, but I’m spying,” she said, and he sat up with a furious expression, at which she put up her hands. She was amazed he trusted her enough to not continue to fly off the handle.

“On Harry and Sirius. I don’t trust him as a guardian. He’s going to cause Harry to be even more reckless than he already is. But I have a plan,” she explained.

“Praytell, what could that be?” he sneered, and she grinned, pointing at a green journal on her desk. Different from the plain black one that she had hidden under her pillow.

“I’ve made linked journals for them. Sirius helped me, so I got his magical signature to track if we need it, which we will. I have a proposal I would like to bring to the Order, but I can’t enter the organization yet. I’d like you, the biggest naysayer, to hear me out first.”

Snape looked at the journal, with a simple flower design on the front. It was very unassuming for being a nifty bit of spywork, one only accomplished by being in someone’s good graces. Again he thought it a shame she wasn’t a Slytherin.

“I hate it already, but go on,” he said with a sigh, fearing he knew what she would say.

“Sirius should be let out on very small, supervised, and Polyjuiced trips,” she said plainly, and he stood immediately despite his exhaustion. She held her ground with her chin jutted out and arms behind her back, huffing out her chest. He realized she had taken her bracelet off when he wasn’t looking, and her chest was bigger than normal. He looked away.

“Sirius Black is an idiot and a reckless one at that. He would quickly be kidnapped and murdered, and Potter an inconsolable mess. What could possibly be good about that?” he asked.

“It’s a risk, I know. But I think if we allow him a small amount of freedom, out of this house, he might think more clearly. Currently, at the smallest chance to go fight he will, he will go out in a blaze, and he won't think of Harry. This would be a multi-step process. First, to monitor his and Harry’s communication to make sure he isn’t urging Harry into more bad decisions to live vicariously through him. Then, introduce the idea to Dumbledore-- I can make a stock of Polyjuice beforehand, I’d like to monitor him at least a month before I would want to make the motion. Then, track him with my journal. Know exactly where he’s gone. If we could, if an auror is available to tail him that would be best. Let him breathe fresh air, get more attached to Harry as himself, not a small James, and maybe he will think more clearly instead of being bait that would go running to a trap,” she explained. 

Sometimes Snape hated how much thought she put into her arguments. It was difficult to tell her she was wrong. 

“I cannot say I approve, but it is not…. The worst plan you could have.” he admitted, and she smiled brightly at his comment-- as close to approval as he would get. Then, she fidgeted.

“There is something else,” she admitted, and crossed the room to her trunk. She pulled out a small wrapped rectangle and presented it to him.

“A Christmas gift, sir. Well, more a token of appreciation for helping me this year. I fully expect you won't use it much, but just in case,” she said, still fidgeting. He opened it, and raised his brow. A simple black notebook greeted him, with a silver snake inlay. He opened it to find cream pages and pale green lines. He looked up at her, confused.

“A journal, Miss Granger?” he asked, and she blushed, damn her. It was not the first time since their meeting, and he did not deserve her flushed cheeks

“I put all my connection notes inside, a school map that will alert you to nearby students when you patrol, and linked it to my journal. If you need to reach me, just tap a page and say “knock knock” and I have to reply with my own code to answer. What you write is gone as soon as you put it in, and only you can see the notes, if you link your magical signature to it. Don’t worry, I haven’t put the trace on yours-- it’s purely like a password,” she explained. “And, it has an extension charm on it, so it should never run out of pages. You can search the auto created index or by page number, but you can just use it for whatever you would like as well.”

He stared at her, saying nothing. He hadn’t had a Christmas gift beyond Molly’s baked goods since… Lily. He would not get choked up, he would not feel touched at the level of thought and effort that went into it.

“Well, you don’t have to use it, I just thought it may be helpful. And, with those notes, you don’t need to meet with me anymore. I can keep helping with potions, but I know my silly opinions must be getting annoying. That’s the true gift.”

“No,” he said, and she stopped, looking at him with trepidation. She hadn’t felt this nervous and self conscious in a long time, but seeing the look on his face reassured her that he was deeply touched.

“I will still require your outlook on certain matters. It has been enlightening and it shall continue with your pre-apprenticeship. I cannot say I will make use of the note writing, but I do… appreciate this,” he said, and looked her in the eye. “And that is your gift, Hermione.”

With that, he left.

And Hermione realized she was well and truly fucked.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Get ready for some DramaTM

She was not starting to have a crush on Snape. Definitely not, not allowed, not happening. He was brash and rude and horrendous to her and her friends, even if he did let her ramble in his presence every few weeks. He was still a dangerous spy, and her a young girl. It was not happening. She appreciated his friendship and his allowance for her to be honest, that was all. She absolutely did not find his rare smile or laugh attractive. It was not going to happen.

Hermione very nearly skipped breakfast the next day, but forced herself to be reasonable and keep a cool head. It would not be the worst thing in the world if she was growing attracted to her potion’s professor. Only the second worst, next to the war. She was grateful she had already had so much practice with Occluding that she was able to put the thought deep into the library of her mind, back into the Restricted Section where she kept her deeply personal memories and thoughts. 

It became easier for her to push it away as the boys thundered down the stairs, from Harry and Ron on up through Sirius Black. Hermione was nearly done with her cinnamon and honey oatmeal, and was glad to clear the table with their rowdiness as Molly served out plates of bacon and sausage, fried eggs and toast with pitchers of juice and milk. Hermione was glad to see Sirius sitting across from Harry, and the two were speaking in lower toned voices-- about the latest in Quidditch, she figured out, and she was glad to see them bonding. The Weasley boys were loud as they ever were during the morning, with boisterous laughter as Ron described a dream he’d had the night before and the twins immediately began to joke about it. Ginny came down soon after, settling in easily with her siblings but still sitting near Harry, who kept glancing at her and blushing.

It quieted when Professor Snape entered the room, looking like he hadn’t slept at all since Hermione had seen him. She scolded her heart as it leapt for a moment, and focused more on how he was doing. His eyes were bloodshot, and a dark stubble had appeared along his jaw. His already pale skin looked even more shallow, and she was sure he had a more pronounced limp. Without him looking at anyone else, he approached Molly and leaned in to whisper to her, which Hermione strained to hear.

“Another one targeted. Elizabet DeLacroix, tonight at 10. Warn the Order,” he whispered and left without any further details. Molly’s face went ashen, and she looked at Sirius, who immediately stood. He nodded without saying anything further, and went back up the stairs, presumably to get the rest of the present Order together for a meeting.

“Children, go upstairs. The Order is going to have an emergency meeting,” Molly said, shooing out her children while Hermione grabbed Harry’s arm as he went to protest. With a look to Ron, Fred, George, and Ginny, they all silently knew to go sit together in one room. Once they crowded into Harry and Ron’s shared room, Hermione locked the door. 

“They’re going to be trying to prevent another disappearance. I heard Professor Snape telling Mrs. Weasley a name and a time. That must be what they’re meeting about now,” she said, and sat on the floor. The others were quiet for a moment, until Harry decided to speak.

“What if it’s a trap?” he asked, and Hermione shot him a harsh look. They had just had that conversation a couple days prior-- how could he already be on that again? Harry gave her a frustrated look and started pacing. She knew he was gearing up to rant, and decided to let him get it out before shutting him down. What was annoying her the most was how all the Weasley’s were already nodding in agreement before Harry even started.

“Look, we’re all aware the disappearances have been the work of Death Eaters. I know we’re supposed to trust Snape and all, but it would be incredibly easy to set us up to wipe out part of the Order, or at least expose them, by sending us to Death Eaters,” he started, and Hermione rolled her eyes and stood up.

“Harry, you know that’s absurd logic. How is the Order to ever bring down any Death Eaters if they never engage them? The whole purpose of the Order of the Phoenix is to win a war! A war cannot be fought without battles. Every adult in that meeting room knows the risk, they knew it before and they came back to fight again. Professor Snape has had plenty of opportunity, this war and the last, to bring us down and he hasn’t. He is not on Voldemort’s side, he’s on ours. And it’s about time you realize that,” she fumed, suddenly fed up with the childishness of her friends. How could they not see the bigger picture, the the spy beyond the terrible professor? Of course he could never be kind to any of them, to do so would bring Voldemort’s wrath down upon him! Not that anyone in the room had ever done anything to warrant a change in his behavior. Harry looked furious.

“Just because you’re up his arse doesn’t mean the rest of us ought to be! I’ve seen! I know you’ve been sneaking off with him!” he accused, face turning red with anger. Hermione took a step back, frightened by him turning on her. It was a rare occurrence, but it was never a pleasant experience. She felt four pairs of Weasley eyes train on her, and felt sweat begin to drip down her back from nerves.

“I’ve been doing a trial run for a potion’s apprenticeship, not that it’s your concern. Professor McGonagall was the one who talked him into it. I’ve been the one making the infirmary’s potion’s this year. I hadn’t told you because I knew this would be your reaction, just yelling and accusing and sneering. You haven’t grown an ounce since we were eleven-- you still refuse to consider people beyond the superficial parts, to look at anything beyond what people want you to see! You demand to be treated as an adult, but do nothing to show you should be. You do not focus on important tasks given to you, but go seeking problems out on your own. You purposefully will take the more dangerous route instead of doing what you know would be safe! For God’s sake, Harry, I’ve been trying for months to get you to give a minimal effort at Occlumency, but you won’t even do that even knowing it’s importance! It’s like you want to be manipulated!” she ranted, panting with blue sparks flying from her hair. 

Instantly, Hermione felt absolutely wretched. The look of betrayal in Harry’s eyes mirrored when he decided to cut her out for alerting McGonagall to his new broom, before they knew Sirius was not going to harm them. The silence after her outburst was deafening, and none of her other friends spoke a word or even looked at her. 

“Get. Out,” Harry hissed, and Ron went to stand.

“Harry--” he started, but was silenced with an aggressive wave of Harry’s hand. Hermione clenched her jaw and wrenched the door open.

“It’s fine, Ron. He needed to hear it anyway,” she said and slammed the door behind her. She had never felt so detached from her friends, so far away from them. Like she had almost outgrown them. With that depressing thought, she went off to her room and locked and warded the door behind her. She snatched up her journal and began to write furiously about what had just transpired. 

Now that she was out of the room and the heat of the moment, Hermione was able to think clearly about what had transpired. Honestly, it was not the worst thing in the world, now that it had happened. Harry did need to have someone finally stand up to him, given the increasing rate of his angry rants and actions. She was deeply concerned about him, but not to the point of inaction. 

 

The next few days were still agony. Harry refused to even be in the same room as her, and anytime they happened to pass each other he distinctly looked the other way with a furious look until she was out of his sight. Hermione was grateful to the Weasley’s however. In particular, Fred and George. As Harry already did not spend a grand amount of time with them, the twins offered their room to Hermione and to pick her brain on their latest experiments and theoretical work. She wasn’t surprised to see the amount of work they put into every single one of their projects, and was glad for the mental workout they provided. By the end of the holiday break, she had started spending nearly all her time with them, and Ron and Ginny when the other was able to distract Harry long enough for a visit.

The night before leaving back for school, Hermione took a deep breath and knocked on Harry’s door. He opened the door and nearly slammed it in her face, but Hermione shoved her way inside regardless, much to his discontent.

“Go away, traitor!” he yelled, but she brushed it off and turned to face him directly with a determined glare.

“No. It’s time for Occlumency practice. Just because you feel like throwing a tantrum does not mean I’m going to watch you fail to do the one thing Professor Dumbledore has asked of you,” she said plainly, and before he could respond yelled “Legilimens!”

Harry did not expect the sudden invasion of his mind in the same way of Snape, though she was much gentler on him. Nary a wall came up to block her out, and Hermione growled with frustration. She pressed further in and all kinds of memories came up-- his first kiss with Ginny, and with Luna, their time spent together, Ron and him meeting on the Hogwarts Express when her bossy self showed up. She saw Cedric die, and Harry throwing himself over the body when he finally returned that fateful night. The dreams he had been tormented by. At no point did she feel any resistance.

“Damn it, Harry! Have you put in no effort at all?!” she yelled at him, and he looked nearly murderous. That did not deter her, though, as she felt entirely comfortable getting up closer to his face and sparking away with her own worried rage. She poked his chest roughly.

“Harry Potter! You’ve not been asked to practice Occlumency as some type of after school project. This is regarding the war, about not giving Voldemort a way to access and manipulate you. He already has with Mr. Weasley! What if he figures out how to send you a false vision, to trick you into a trap where he can grab you? You didn’t try to push me out at all-- there was no resistance. Why are you refusing to do this one thing? Not for me, not for Dumbledore, but for yourself? For Ginny and Luna, who would gladly follow you into that trap because they love you and want to help you? For Ron, who would be your side without a second thought? Act like you care a little bit, Harry. You can hate me all you want, but for God’s sake, don’t squander a chance to have an upper hand in the war,” she fumed.

“What if I can control it? What if I can go into his mind?” he countered and Hermione gripped his shoulders.

“That does not matter if you cannot strengthen your own! He’s the greatest Legilimens known, and probably is not half bad at Occluding either. If you can’t keep him out, there’s no way you’ll be able to get in. This is step one no matter how you look at it. Don’t you dare think otherwise,” she countered, finally lowering her finger from him. His face had finally changed from furious to one of contemplation, and she sighed.

“Listen, Harry, I’m sorry I yelled at you the other day, but I’m not sorry about what I said. You needed someone to get through to you. I think he’s starting to affect your personality. You’ve always been so kind to people who need it, but especially your friends. Lately… we’ve all been having to walk on eggshells around you because everything sets you off. I’ve offered my ear multiple times for you to just let out whatever is bothering you, and you refuse. Try to use the journal I’ve given you. It works beyond just writing to Sirius. You can use it as a journal and no one will see it but you. We’re all concerned about you. We love you. Let us help,” she said then opened the door.

“And start practicing, please” she said, and left to let her words sink in. Hermione let Ron know that Harry was probably in need of some emotional support at the time, and went back to her room. She simply didn’t have the energy for it right then-- seeing his memories had been emotionally exhausting. It was the first time she had ever delved into someone’s mind, and she hated it. She was also hoping the distraction with Ron would keep Harry from realizing she had done underage magic, to him.

In the later hours, after a long time spent curled up in bed and sleeping deeply after a draining evening, a knock sounded at her door. Confused, and more than half asleep, Hermione answered the door in her thin nightdress and robe. When she opened the door, however, a tall dark figure loomed over her. She immediately assumed she was just dreaming, and grinned.

“Professor,” she said and let him inside her room. Snape did not react to her state of dress or when Hermione flicked on some candles as she closed the door. She did not realize that internally, he realized he had fucked up. He was used to her keeping late hours and always being presentable, he was not anticipating her state of casual dress. He would simply not be able to look at her during the meeting as to not allow the image to linger in his mind, as it was already starting to do.

“Miss Granger, I’ve heard you finally snapped at Potter,” he started off, looking out her window instead of towards her. She sat on the edge of her bed and sighed.

“Hermione. Yes, I did. I tried to make amends tonight.... After I used Legilimency,” she admitted, and Snape whipped around and stalked closer. Despite normally fearing his reaction, her tired mind could not help noticing the way the shadows from the candles played with the sharp lines of his face, a chiaroscuro painting by a master. Part of her realized she really needed to wake up, but she still felt relaxed by his presence, even with his sneer.

“You did what?” he asked carefully, and she shrugged.

“I knew he wouldn’t sit down and practice with me, so instead I ambushed him to check his work. Nothing. Not even a shove. I may have yelled at him quite a bit afterwards. And did not actually apologize for what I had yelled at him before. He’s had his head up his arse long enough, someone had to do it,” she said and yawned. She hated that her body was acting as if there were no threat, as though her familiarity with Snape would keep him from hexing her.

“I see. How did he take to that?” he asked, ignoring her sleepy state. If anything, he hoped it would make her even more honest.

“Mm. Left before he could really react. He’s got a terrible mind, he has, but I think I finally pressed through on actually practicing. I had Ron handle the after for me,” she said, picking at her blanket. “He’s better with emotions than I am anyway.”

“Be careful when confronting him. He has been increasingly unstable,” Snape warmed, and Hermione only snorted in response.

“Yes, well, I do still frighten him quite a bit. Did you know my hair sparks when I’m truly angry? When that turns on him he always shuts up, no matter how mad he may be. I’ll use it while I can,” she mused, and Snape stared at her. She still had on her bracelet, and he found himself uncomfortable looking at her more youthful face. Her eyes were half lidded as if she were being drawn back into sleep regardless of conversation, but her eyes were still fixed on him contemplatively.

“What is it, Miss Granger?” he finally dared to ask, and she gave him a sleepy smile.

“You’re beautiful, is all. And call me Hermione,” she said in response, and he froze where he stood.

“You are definitely delirious. Our conversation will wait until later,” he said, and she just shrugged and threw off her robe, revealing her nearly bare shoulders and the gentle curve of her breasts under the thin fabric of the nightdress. She managed to get herself back under the blankets, but motioned for him to come over first.

“Wait, please,” she said, and he reluctantly came closer to her bedside. She reached a hand out towards his.

“Make this a better dream. I can talk to you about Harry anytime, Severus,” she said, and he sighed deeply. This girl was going to destroy him. Her sleepy eyes looked up at him so innocently, as if she were not begging the world of him. She was so trusting and naive, and even dreamt of her horrid professor being kind. Still, he found himself unable to refuse her quietly spoken request, and he took a light hold of her hand. Her thumb ran over his knuckles and she smiled dreamily, and raised her lips to kiss his knuckles. He stared, mind unable to process the sweet motion.

“I’ll repay the favor better soon. Good night, Severus” she murmured and her eyes finally closed, her lashes making pretty shadows over her freckle dusted cheeks. He was unable to move for a moment, still trying to figure out if he was in reality or not, and what sort of odd dreams this girl had. Finally, he tucked her arm back under the blanket and stopped himself from brushing back some hair from her face.

“Good night, Hermione,” he whispered before sneaking from her bedroom, feeling dirtier than ever.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :^)

Hermione woke the next morning to the bright winter sun and stretched luxuriously for a moment in bed. She recalled her dreaming of Snape visiting, but as she noticed the shortness of her candles and the robe on her floor, she nearly screamed. The sudden realization that no, that had absolutely not been a dream and that she had actually kissed his hand mortified her. She pressed her face to her hands and felt the heat of her blush. There was absolutely no way she could handle seeing him now.

It took her a while to finally feel like she was brave enough to venture from her room to go down to breakfast, and to her relief Snape was not there. Harry did not immediately leave at her presence, but he still gave her a wary look. The twins began whispering to her about their plans for Umbridge, and she gave them a conspiratorial grin and threw herself into the distraction of planning when and how to slip Umbridge some ill faring treats without suspicion.

Eventually, Harry began including her in conversation by the time they were back on the train, and that gave Hermione some amount of relief. She selfishly enjoyed the small break from Harry, but was still thankful he had gotten over his anger fairly quickly. It was still nice to slip back into friendship and easy conversation on the way back up to the school. Mentally, she was still gearing up for seeing Professor Snape again.

She stopped in place as she entered the great hall for dinner and saw him already at the dinner table. Fred stopped beside her as everyone else filed in, concern etched into his features.

“Hermione?” he asked, and she broke out of her haze and gave him a nervous grin and continued walking.

“Sorry, just, well, nervous,” she said, and he put a friendly arm over her shoulders.

“Well, don’t worry love. Whatever’s got you in a twist, I’ll help you out,” he promised, and she nearly laughed, but still gave him a grateful smile.

“Thanks, Fred, I’ll keep that in mind,” she replied, and took her seat between him and Ginny at the dinner table. She prayed that Snape would not look at Gryffindor’s table, least of all her, but she felt a tingle from being watched and risked a glance up at the teacher’s table again. Of course the potions professor was staring at her with an enigmatic look upon his face. Hermione met his eye, and he frowned and looked away. Definitely not pleased with her inappropriate behavior.

And, of course, she had potions the very next morning. She lollygagged around in the morning as long as she reasonably could, and walked into class between Ron and Harry with a very carefully schooled expression on her face. She would not blush at him, or admit that anything had happened in his presence. It would be better that way. She took her seat by Neville and put out her book and notebook neatly out with her quill and ink. She was a normal student with normal thoughts who definitely did not kiss the hands of her professors.

Snape flowed into the room with the same dangerous grace as he ever did, eyes flitting over his student’s and stopping on no one for long, even her. After an uncomfortably long silence, he tapped the blackboard and his script appeared upon it, laying out the ingredients for the potion they were to practice but not naming it.

“Who can tell me what type of potion these ingredients would create?” he asked, sounding as bored as ever. Hermione examined the list of herbs, the dragonfly wings, the firescales, and knew instantly it was an antidote to veritaserum. That was definitely not on the curriculum-- could he have learned something? Was that, perhaps, why he had come to speak to her beyond her brief fall out with Harry? She was so busy considering the implications that she did not raise her hand to answer, and was therefore surprised when he barked out her name.

“Granger! Enlighten the class as none of you will give even a guess,” he snapped, glaring around the room. She instantly straightened in her seat but tried to refrain from her lecture tone.

“With these ingredients, the imbiber would be able to resist the effects of many willpower affecting potions, such as veritaserum,” she said, looking at his face to gauge his reaction. He gave none, but tapped the board again and the instructions filled themselves in, along with the name of the potion, Willpower Will Out.

“Five points,” he simply muttered, but it could have been fifty from the way Gryffindor reacted.

“Settle down and get to work or I’ll take ten!” he growled loudly, and every quickly quieted. Hermione fetched her ingredients and helped Neville seek out his, though much more subtly than before by gently bumping his outstretched arm over another jar. He didn’t even notice the movement. They took their seats and Hermione immediately began following the directions, taking her time to make it as precisely as possible. Her ingredients were carefully measured, her stirs perfectly timed. She needed this to be perfect, to memorize how to make it, and how to make it in bulk.

By the end of the class, her potion was at the exact right shade of shimmery black that it was supposed to be, like an oil slick in a phial. She placed it upon Snape’s desk, and let a small paper slip out of her sleeve as she did, something she had written during the class while looking like she was noting the process of her potion.

After all the students left, Snape finally dared to pick up the slip and read what it said.

“Let me use the lab,” was all that was written, and his frown turned into the faintest smile. She was a clever girl, she understood what was to come. And she would take the initiative to be prepared.

\--

A week later, Hermione’s journal warmed for the first time. She steeled herself the whole week for him finally to call her out on her behavior just before returning to Hogwarts, but he acted as though it had never happened. She was grateful, but also worried he was holding onto it until he could lord it over her head. She had been debating whether or not to just bring it up herself and deny him the ammo later when she received his message.

“Lab clear and prepared. Arrive when you are able,” he had written, and she sighed with relief and went down into the common room from where she had been thinking in her room. Harry and Ron sat at a table near the fire, playing wizard’s chess, while Fred and George sat near them, heads bent over sprawled out pages.

“Harry, do you have a moment?” she asked, and he and Ron paused the game so they could speak.

“I’m going down to the potions lab, and I think you’ll be pleased. Professor Snape is allowing me to make us a stock of Willpower Will Out. I think he knows Umbridge may try to use veritaserum on us sometime soon-- I’m aiming to make a flask’s worth for everyone,” she explained, and Harry and Ron both looked a little startled. Hermione smiled reassuringly.

“She doesn’t know we’re ahead of her little game. It will come as a nasty shock when she realizes. But we must be on our toes,” she warned, hugged them both goodbye and went sneaking off towards the dungeons, avoiding a wandering Draco with some Slytherin drones as well as the toad herself.

She safely arrived at the lab and let herself in, a little surprised to notice that Snape himself was not in the room. She felt the door ward itself behind her and shrugged, going to what she considered as her station and got to work, summoning two cauldrons while she grabbed ingredients and took off her bracelet. It was easy to slip into the ease of work, letting her fingers deftly slice and dice and break down ingredients as needed, careful not to lose oils from the plants. 

Brewing had somehow become a comforting action to Hermione, who first started practicing more to prepare more healing potions, but as she reached more advanced levels realized exactly what went into them beyond mere recipe memorization. It was a truly complicated field, very similar to chemistry, and something she was learning to excel at, even if she was still not particularly creative with it. She was smart enough to realize that the potion recipes Snape put up on the board for class were different from the textbook definitions-- definitely his own improvements.

She found herself lost in the process, managing two separate cauldrons, and barely felt the tingle on the back of her neck before Snape cleared his throat. Only by having trained her nerves down did she avoid screwing up the timing of her stirring.

“You scared me, Professor,” she muttered, doing exactly three more clockwise stirs before removing the stirring rods and letting them rest for precisely twenty minutes. She whipped around and saw Snape staring at her contemplatively, but the look vanished almost instantly.

“My apologies, Miss Granger. That was not my intent,” he murmured, and Hermione looked away. They hadn’t been alone since that embarrassing night, and she was not brave enough to look at his face. A long silence draped over them, neither quite sure how to say what they wanted to say.

“I have been doing a lot of… thinking since the term has started,” he began, words not betraying the unsureness he felt. He saw her immediately go rigid and a look of embarrassment crossed her face, hot with shame.

“It may not be best to meet in person from now on. You are a great conversationalist and a bright witch, and your company has been tolerable, however given recent… events… I wish to regain a standing of propriety and distance to discourage any unwarranted… attachments, and keep a proper student and teacher relationship without allowing lines to blur further,” he finally said, and she nodded quickly and turned away from him.

“I will unward the lab for you at your request, and keep it warded for you while you are present, but I will not be in the room to supervise you any further. Any important information can be passed through the journals without the need to meet.”

Hermione could just nod again, straining hard to not let tears run down her face. Of course. Now that he was aware of her childish crush, he needed to put up that professional distance that needed to be there all along. She was not so self important as to think that she would somehow be beyond such restrictions, or that there would not be consequences for her tired actions. Still, it did nothing to subdue the burning in her chest or tightness of her throat. 

Snape saw her tremble and sighed to himself, knowing that any comfort he would be able to provide would just worsen the issue. She was still a teenager, even if she were now closer to twenty than sixteen, and a girl. It was surprising but still somewhat understandable that having a male professor, particularly one that had been so withholding, pay attention to her developing into a schoolgirl crush. He was not angry with her for that. He was angry with himself for the small quiver of delight he had taken from it. She was an innocent woman, he was a dirty lech and pervert. He reminded himself that as he was in a position of authority over her, it was he who needed to put in place the boundaries.

Even if it meant feeling like a wretched fool as she began to sob and he left the room, unable to bring himself to apologize for doing the right thing. She would grow out of it incredibly quickly when she remembered just who it was that she had attached herself to, and would have been disgusted had he done anything beyond pushing her away. Anything else would be a fantasy he did not deserve, did not need, and would feel grotesque for having.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> >:)

The weeks went on, and if they didn’t know any better, they would have sworn that Hermione was going through a breakup. She had gone even quieter than before, hardly bothering to nag Harry and Ron to do their homework and just silently taking over the essays for them instead of fighting about it. She skipped a Hogsmeade weekend, and completed her next month’s worth of assignments before just sitting around and staring at her green journal with a complex look upon her face. Even at meals, she more or less pushed some food around the plate, nodded when necessary, and would leave early.

Harry often found her by using his Marauder’s Map, sitting outside in a courtyard or buried deep in the library. Multiple times he tried to approach her, but when he would arrive she would be gone and nearly halfway across the castle, following a path Harry had no clue existed. She did the same with the rest of her friends, and they were growing concerned when they realized they hadn’t heard a word out of her for days by the time March was arriving, and with it, spring. 

“Hermione. You have got to tell us what is going on with you. You look like hell, you won’t speak to anyone, and we hardly see you eat. Something had to have happened, please, just talk to us about it,” Ron finally pleaded as they sat in the common room, alone except for her friends. Hermione shrugged, and ignored the stinging of her eyes. Her friends cared so dearly about her, and they would despise her if they knew what had really caused her heartbreak. It was ridiculous, really, that she was still so upset about Snape’s disbanding of their agreement. It was a childish crush, and at her true age she had no right moping about because of it for so long, and so aggressively. 

“Professor Snape decided to end my pre-apprenticeship and will not be offering me an apprenticeship next year,” she finally said, as close to the truth as she could manage without going into details that they would not need. Ron and Harry looked at each other, then back at Hermione with sympathetic grins.

“Oh, come on Hermione! You know that he’s a total idiot if he kicked you out-- you’re the best person for the job! Besides, any single professor here would love to take you on, you know they’ve probably got a betting pool about who you would study under, or hell, you could probably chose multiple fields and they’d let you!” Ron started, and Harry nodded, his grin starting to widen.

“Absolutely! You’re a bright witch, the brightest we know, and even if it’s not with Snape, there are probably loads of potion masters out there who would love a smart apprentice to work with them,” he joined. Hermione just shook her head.

“It’s not the same!” she snapped, then wiped at her eyes. “I mean, there aren’t many potion masters in England, and most of them are aligned with Voldemort anyways, and wouldn’t accept a Muggleborn like me, let alone a witch. And when it comes to transfigurations, or charms, or anything like that, I’ve always been able to pick it up and run with it, to experiment and learn on my own. I’ve always had a challenge in potions, and that’s what excites me now. To be pushed, to be forced to grow beyond myself and think in new directions…. And Professor Snape was my only hope at that.”

Harry and Ron went very quiet at that, unsure of what to say with such a solid argument. They exchanged similar helpless looks, but Fred stood from where he sat nearby, looking at Hermione with a hopeful grin.

“Then be our apprentice,” he said, and she furrowed her brows and looked at him with annoyed confusion.

“Hear me out, Hermione-- we’re trying to start a business as soon as we are able. We are constantly battling back and forth and going through so many prototypes because we have two halves of the same brain working on a project. Having a thorough, precise, brilliant witch as yourself helping us over the holidays let us advance so far on what we were doing. If you started helping us more often, we could have loads and loads of shelves of products ready to go in no time!”

Hermione did hear him out. Fred watched her face go from forlorn, to curious, to surprised, to considering in a very short amount of time, then switching between those for a long time before finally seeming to come to some sort of conclusion in her head. She looked up at Fred and nodded, finally letting a small grin of her own light up her face.

“Okay, I’m in.”

\--

Every day was an increasing punishment for Severus Snape as he watched Hermione Granger slip further and further into herself. Clearly the girl was in agony over his severing of their agreement, which was anticipated. Then it went on for more than a couple of days, and a couple of weeks, and before he knew it, months had passed without any change in her behavior for the better. She’d not only stopped raising her hand, or even her head, in his classes, but the other professors expressed concern when she began doing the same in theirs. He noticed that when she attended meals, there was barely anything missing from her plate when she left. 

Genuine concern began to rise in him-- had he been wrong to cut off their meetings? Had they truly meant so much to the girl as to cause such a reaction? Could she truly have needed an outlet that badly? He refused to consider that it was her budding crush. There had to be a deeper meaning to her behavior, one that he was not seeing. He needed to see it righted, before the overwhelming guilt finally destroyed him, as it threatened to do. He could not be responsible for destroying something that needed to thrive. Not again.

Reluctantly, Snape grabbed his journal that night. It really had been a fine gift. He used it daily for logging any ideas he had as they came to him, be it potions recipes or spells. He also used it, after vigorous testing, to finally write out some of his troubles. The relief he felt was nearly tangible. The tightness of his spine had loosened slightly. His dangerous life had no changes, and would likely get worse, but at least he had some outlet to vent about Voldemort, about Dumbledore and the Order, his own dark feelings about the war, and… a certain student.

He had forced himself to admit, after her delirious actions, that some part of him had been thrilled by the attention and longed for more. No one had ever referred to him as anything resembling beautiful, yet that was how she viewed him. Her fingers had curled so delicately around his, her touch so light and reverent. He could not forget the look of her in the dim candlelight, warm and mystifying with a look of such trust and comfort that he had felt ashamed to be in her presence. He did not deserve such a blessing, and even as he yanked his hand away after her soft lips had brushed his knuckles, he felt that he was too late; she was sullied by his very existence around her.

It was a thought he came back to more often than he would have liked, so he finally wrote the damn thing down to cast it from his head. He refused to use a Pensive, as Dumbledore often did, as he knew the holes could be noticed if anyone knew where to look. And the Dark Lord most assuredly did.

After a long reflection and debate over whether the course he was taking was the correct one, he finally penned an invitation to the potion’s lab to Hermione. She had not come even once since he discontinued their meetings, despite his offer to let her use the room whenever she wished, unattended and with full protections. He had found that he missed her presence in the room, from her reorganization of his supplies that she did slowly to keep from his notice, to how she always left the room even cleaner than before, and her scribbled notes on pages for him to review after a particularly long conversation.

“I will be in the potions lab this evening if you wish to join me,” he wrote, feeling ill about going back on his word and even worse about once again opening the door to impropriety, but something had to be done to keep the girl from wasting away. Someone would find a way to blame it on him. In this case, they would be right.

He let it be for a couple of hours, but after he failed to sense anyone at the edge of his wards, Snape began to become suspicious. He touched the journal, and found it cold. The suspicion immediately grew to worry and confusion. Was that not what she had wanted? He thought she would have perked up at the offer, or at the very least responded. He’d never known her to fail to let him know if her schedule permitted a meeting before. He would give her the benefit of the doubt, and sent a second message, the exact same as the first.

He waited again. He picked up a potion journal, focusing on the latest findings for a new ingredient or novel way to use something, the benefits of using crystals in potions, and he was staring at the journal again. He could hardly get down a page without his eyes resting again on the blasted book. It remained cool to his touch, and a prickle of fear went down his spine after yet another hour had passed. 

Snape was up and out of his chair and nearly to his door when he froze, realizing that he was acting without thinking. He forced himself to relax, and looked down at himself. He was once again ready to go up to Gryffindor tower for some girl he’d allowed himself to get attached to, only this time he had been correct in shoving her away. He was a teacher, a spy, and no longer a damn fool. He shoved the offending journal onto his bookcase and summoned a decanter of firewhiskey instead. 

Severus Snape would be damned if he let that girl play him for a fool.

\--

Hermione discovered it was surprisingly easy to get into the boy’s dorms, given that she had absolutely no intention of getting up to any sort of improper activities with them. When Fred and George motioned for her to follow them up the stairs to the boy’s part of the tower, Hermione had laughed. They all knew the stairs were charmed to not allow the sexes to take the wrong set of stairs. However, following their adamant insistence, she took a step and discovered that it did not become a slide, as she anticipated, but held true.

That would be useful information, she decided.

Though Fred and George shared their dorm with other seventh years, it was very clear that they took up a majority of space. An unused bed had been hijacked and used as a potion’s experiment table, there were papers pinned up between both of their beds, and it was almost like a line had been drawn on the floor for where their chaos stopped. Lee Jordan looked up from where he lounged on his bed, book open, and grinned at Hermione but didn’t make a comment, which helped settle her nerves. She glanced over everything, compiling a list in her mind of what needed improvement, what was a matter of how they worked, and what was working. Finally, she turned at looked at the very hopeful twins.

“Okay boys… Let’s get started,” she said, and rolled up the sleeves of her robes. Fred and George exchanged a look and grinned wide, ready to submit to whatever Hermione insisted on. They were not prepared for exactly how thorough the witch was. Within a few hours, their pages had been organized by idea with cross referencing color tabs to other projects, and placed in a folder she created. They were able to see the floor for the first time since moving in. She took inventory of their potion ingredients and organized it into a much easier system, and made a sheet of what needed replaced, what they had in excess, and what was about to expire. She even provided where many of the ingredients could be gathered for free instead of costing them even more.

Lastly, she looked at the potions themselves. The state they were brewing in was atrocious. Honestly, Hermione was shocked no one had ended up dead given how easy cross contamination was. One extremely long lecture later, Hermione sat on one of the beds and sighed.

“You absolutely cannot continue brewing in here. It’s madness. You have got to ask Professor Snape if you can use one of the unused potion labs. Or maybe the Room of Requirement can help, something has to change,” she said, too tired to even point at Fred and George anymore.

“We will be delighted to look into it, Granger,” George said, plopping down beside her. She rolled her eyes.

“In the meantime, feel free to curl up here if need be. You did wear us out quite a bit already, but I can listen to you nag all night long,” Fred teased, and Hermione stood instantly with a snort.

“Fat chance, Weasley. I’ll keep to my own bed, thanks,” she retorted, and went to the door. A small smile did lift at the corner of her lips as she turned to say goodnight and left. Fred watched her leave with a smile of his own, and when he turned to George, found a knowing look on his twin. 

“What?” he asked, and George just wiggled his brows. Fred frowned, and George laughed.

“Listen, I’m grateful for Granger’s help and all, but I know that you’re just sweet on her, Forge. Go for it,” he said, and Fred mumbled a denial but couldn’t help but grin when he turned away. To himself, he could admit a small crush.


	10. Chapter 10

By the time Potions rolled around the next afternoon, the entire school knew that Professor Snape was in an extremely foul mood. Hermione, who had tried very much over the past few months to avoid even thinking of the professor as much as possible, found herself dreading the class. She had found his messages long after she knew they would have been sent, after meeting with Fred and George, and couldn’t help but feel his ire was directed at her.

The tension in the classroom was palpable when she entered. Snape was seated at his desk, furiously writing as students filed in-- much different than his usual empty classroom that allowed him to rush in just as class started, startling everyone at his always sudden entrance. Everyone was hushed as soon as they entered the door, and it quietly shut behind the last student. Nothing was written on the board, and no one was willing to speak to ask when he was going to begin.

Hermione took the time to finally look at Snape, as she had not since he had dismissed her over her crush. He looked even worse than he had at Christmas. She hadn’t seen him look so terrible during school, and it was worrisome. Immediately, she became afraid that something had happened in the Order, that she would have no way of knowing until it was too late. But as his dark eyes, red rimmed from a lack of sleep and hangover, met hers, she saw such vitriol aimed at her that she actually jumped. She had done nothing to him in weeks, more than a month. She had turned in assignments exactly as assigned, had been completely out of his way and unobtrusive in every way. She had no idea what could cause such fury to be directed at her. Was her lack of response really such a big deal to him? 

The blackboard at the front of the class began to cover itself with spidery script, and the professor said nothing, merely waved his hand at the class. Silently, they read the board and gathered ingredients, and Hermione set to work on her potion, mind half on her professor. Halfway through the process, a slip of paper landed on her desk.

“What’s gotten into the great bat?” she read to herself, and looked to the table next at her to see Harry motioning with his eyes. Hermione shrugged, and slipped it back.

“Detention, Miss Granger. No note passing in my class,” Snape murmured without looking up from his desk, and heat shot up her face. How dare he single her out when she hadn’t done anything wrong! Harry’s eyes widened and anger started to cloud his eyes but Hermione shook her head at him. It wouldn’t be worth it to break the tension in the room with a blow up fight, she would just accept it. She finished her potion as soon as she was able and set it on his desk without any of her annoyance on her face.

“After dinner. Tonight,” he told her as she did, and she did not acknowledge it before leaving. 

After months of being in an unfeeling, unmoving haze, anger seemed the easiest emotion to grab onto. Truth be told, she was still exhausted. It took a tremendous amount of energy to shove everything away that related to her professor. Not just her bit of embarrassing behavior and his response to it, but the realization of just how often she did think of him. Every thought she had about the war, about potions, about magic she found his name the first on her list to tell. Seeing her charm bracelet and carrying the weight of her age and knowledge reminded her of his dour and tired face when she revealed her secret to him. Every moment in the classroom reminded her of her own potions work and their odd friendship, and the liberties she was able to take as a student learning to be truly creative for the first time. 

And the dreams. Every single night, without fail, she would relive Snape dismissing her in one way or another. Be it the memory of his kind if stern rejection, or perhaps him lashing out in the cruelest way he could, laughing at her and her silly schoolgirl crush. Sometimes, she dreamt that he lead her on, let her grow closer just to humiliate her further. But the most frequent was him looking at her with disgust, telling her she was shameful for ever wanting to be around him, and that he was sick of being her secret keeper.

It had taken a toll. Even interlaced with worries of the war, news of disappearances, trying to slip away from an increasingly agitated Umbridge and her Slytherin squad, Hermione found herself still becoming upset about the cancellation of her agreement with Snape over it all. And she hated it. So she repressed it and did the bare minimum across the board to keep from dealing with anything.

When she stood in front of the classroom door after dinner, once again merely prodded at instead of eaten, she felt a sickening sense of deja vu. She shook it off and opened the door. Snape was not at his desk, but the connecting door to his office was open with warm candlelight spilling out into the cool darkness of the classroom. Honestly, the man was so frustrating. He just had to take the extra step to be annoying instead of just being in the classroom as he normally would.

After repressing her anger, she continued into his office. Snape was standing near the entrance to his private quarters, his back to her while he appeared to study something in a jar. His back was tense, his arms gripped behind him. She dropped her bag in one chair and plopped unceremoniously into the other, crossing her arms and waiting for him to speak. It was his favorite game to play, to make the other person speak first and make them nervous. Well, she wasn’t in the mood for it. A testy amount of silence passed before he finally sighed, and she hid a small quirk of a victorious grin.

“You have been ill for weeks,” he said, and Hermione sat up straighter in her chair. It was not exactly the direction she had been expecting him to go. He was not finished.

“The other professors have been expressing concern at meetings. Hardly participating, bare minimum projects instead of being an insufferable overachiever. Skipped Hogsmeade trips. Some of them have speculated you’ve been rejected by a boy.”

He spoke with such sneering disdain that Hermione felt her stomach begin to cramp with the familiar ache of rejection and being a disappointment. She had no answer for his sneering. She knew that she had been completely out of touch for most of the semester, and was only roused out of it by the Weasley twins providing a distraction the night before, but it was rapidly evaporating in the face of another Snape dressing down. She tucked her chin down to her chest and dropped her vision to her feet, steeling herself for it. 

She knew she shouldn’t cause any notice by changing behavior. She needed to stick to how she was supposed to be, and with no obvious boy to be interested in, it would only cause more speculation to her condition as Hogwarts was full of gossips and her, Harry, and Ron tended to be prime targets. Her fingers gripped each other tightly. She would just need to try even harder.

“I have to admit… my own… concern,” he finally said, voice so quiet that Hermione nearly missed it. Her head shot up at that, staring at him as if he were an entirely different person. The Snape she knew did not admit that he felt concern for anyone, and barely even for the war at large. She felt as if her heart quit beating at his quiet admission, and she could not think to respond. It was dizzying.

“You have stopped eating. Even the dunderheads you call friends have noticed. I… I did not anticipate that our meetings had such an… effect… on you. You did not even accept my olive branch last night. I cannot help but feel responsible for your current state of being, yet I am at a loss for what needs to be done about it.”

He looked distinctly uncomfortable as he turned around, unable to meet Hermione’s eye. It was painfully clear he had never dealt with a similar situation before, and was grasping at how to handle her even now. She was aware that he was asking her what she felt she needed, and she had no idea what to even respond with. Especially not as all the feelings she repressed came sprouting up, unbidden, at his uncomfortable expression and awkward attempt at a kindness.

Snape was incredibly startled to notice tears welling up in her eyes and running down her cheeks as he finally risked a glance at her face, and he froze. He was attempting to be as tactful as possible, a nearly impossible task when dealing with young women, but he did not expect Miss Granger to actually cry. He produced a white handkerchief from his sleeve and gently handed it to her, which she took gratefully. He could only be thankful that she was not a loud crier, but was still very overwhelmed with the situation. In all their meetings together, he had began to forget that she was still so young a woman with their mature discussions. That had clearly been a mistake.

Neither spoke for a while as Hermione quietly cried, hiding her face and trying to stop her shaking shoulders. Snape felt to add anymore could only worsen the situation, and stood awkwardly aside while he let his student sort herself out. Eventually, she quieted and took a deep breath, so he glanced at her again. Her eyes and nose were reddened from her emotional distress, but she was wearing an odd smile despite it. Truly, he felt he would never understand women.

“Thank you sir… you’re very kind,” she said with only a slight hiccup, and he remained silent. Kind was not a word that was ever ascribed to him, but then again, neither was beautiful. She had used both. He refused to acknowledge that thought, and instead focused on his student’s emotional state. She appeared to be done crying, and was preparing herself to actually respond. He could see flickers of emotions pass her face, and stomped heavily on the impulse to just look in her mind and avoid the entire ordeal.

“I am sorry my behavior has been cause for concern. It will not happen again,” she said, and stood and went towards the door. Snape stared at her incredulously. Did she really think that would be all? Cruel bastard or not, he could tell that, despite crying, the girl was ready to burst and he would not send her off to suffer further. At least, not again.

“Miss Granger, sit down. Once again it has fallen on me to bear your emotional outburst that clearly needs out, so out with it,” he drawled, tone slightly annoyed that she thought she could get away with it. He heard her sigh, and though she did not sit down, she stopped reaching for the handle. Her hand did twitch, though, and he thought for a moment that she actually would just go running out to avoid any talk of emotion. For a moment, he was almost proud.

“It’s ridiculous teenager things. You’ve no interest, sir,” she said, not wanting to turn around as he did earlier. It was beginning to feel like pulling teeth to try to get her to open up, which was a far cry from her typical open self. She was hiding something she absolutely did not want him to know, and he was growing curious.

“Try me,” he said, and ignored her quiet curse under her breath as she once again sat before his desk. She played with her charm bracelet, which she kept on, and her waited with false patience as he watched her twist around a small book between her finger and thumb. Clearly, she hadn’t thought he would actually make her open up following their last meeting, but since her behavior was starting to catch notice, he wasn’t about to let it continue.

“Hermione,” he sighed, growing tired of her reluctance, and he did not miss the moment of relaxation before she tensed again. Interesting. She finally shoved her hands under her thighs to avoid her fidgeting and let out a gruff sigh.

“Fine. In a very silly and completely uncalled for manner, I have been sulking because my professor was, shockingly, a professional and cancelled meetings where I felt like I was a contributing adult because I was a creepy little girl. I don’t deserve to be pouting as I have, my behavior is over the top, I won’t let it continue, can I please go?” she finally ranted out, and Snape was caught off guard by the harsh tone of self loathing she used against herself. She had presented herself as so confident, or at the very least competent, that he was shocked at the vehemence she was capable of. He was uncomfortably reminded of his own inner voice.

“Miss Granger, that is uncalled for,” he warned, and she scoffed, crossing her arms tightly across her chest. He was shaken by the completely lost look on her face, and the shining of her eyes that threatened tears. By the tension in her jaw, he could tell she was clenching and grinding her teeth. 

“It is understandable that you would feel upset. I did not realize the importance of our meetings to you. For that, I… apologize. I know too well the pain of living a life no one else around you understands or knows of. To take away that outlet must be painful,” he continued, and she seemed to let down her guard a minute amount at his words, though she did flush with embarrassment. Of course he would understand that, he had the most difficult life of any of them. And he was still trying to offer her comfort. It stung unexpectedly.

“I… I understand sir. I will find better ways to cope. You have been… more than kind to me, Professor. You needn’t worry further, really. I’ve sort of been given another outlet for my meddling, so I won’t need to bother you further with anything. If the infirmary needs more potions, or you need ingredients handled, let me know. Otherwise, I’ll handle myself with more care from here further,” she said, forcing all of her polite student facade out onto her face. Snape raised a brow at her, and she sighed again.

“Fred and George Weasley are planning on opening a business once they graduate. They’ve recruited me to help them with it. Getting their numbers figured out, exact business needs, organization, general mayhem controller,” she explained further, and he rolled his eyes.

“Only you, Miss Granger, could view teaching idiots how to run a business as a hobby. Best of luck with that endeavour.”

“They are not idiots! They’re actually some of the most intelligent wizards I have ever met. They’ve managed to do things with potions and charms that I’ve never dreamed were possible… they may use that genius for chaos, but it is genius nonetheless. Really, I feel like they don’t even need me, but it lets them focus on building a product line before launch if I handle the less exciting aspects,” she defended, and Snape offered a rare smile.

“Trust me, Granger, you are needed,” he said, and Hermione couldn’t shake the feeling that he was speaking of more than Fred and George needing business sense. She looked away.

“Yes, well… May I please be dismissed now?” she asked, and he waved her away. He’d never seen a student clear his office so quickly, and the curiosity of just what exactly she was hiding from him awakened further.


	11. Chapter 11

Hermione’s heart was beating rapidly as she left Snape’s office, and with every step she cursed herself for letting her damn crush pop up again just like that. One act of attempted kindness, and she was smitten all over again. She hated it. Every bit of humiliation and regret she felt over the past few weeks had breezed away, simply because he decided to pay her a little bit of attention and not yell at her. Honestly, she never thought she would be so easy.

She stomped her way back up to Gryffindor tower. Why couldn’t she just have a crush on someone normal? Why couldn’t her life just be normal? It wasn’t enough that a madman was trying to kill her and her friends, or trying to wipe out anyone like her. It wasn’t enough that her closest friend was slipping further into anger and frustration every day and away from her. No, overachieving Hermione had to add “World’s Most Impossible Crush” to her list of struggles. It was mortifying. How had her weeks of sulking avoidance not cleared her head?

A solid mass prevented her from moving any further, and Hermione looked up to see that she had walked smack into Fred, as absorbed as she was in her own petulant thoughts. He did not seem bothered at all by it, but instead looked concerned as he gripped her shoulders to keep her from falling over.

“Hermione? Alright there? You looked right bothered,” he said, and she shrugged. Like Snape, however, he wasn’t having any of it and just gave her an unimpressed look. She sighed.

“No, I’m not alright. I’ve got a lot going on right now and no way to deal with any of it,” she lashed out, and Fred raised his brows but still looked concerned. He glanced around the hall before he sighed and took her hand.

“C’mon, let’s go,” he said, and began to lead Hermione down some passages. She felt too tired to really fight it. As it were, she felt like she’d gone through the emotional ringer already. What was trying to avoid someone else while seeming like she was talking about her issues? Just another stick to add to her load. Eventually, she realized that Fred was leading her up to the seventh floor, and presumably the Room of Requirement. She found that to be correct, and Fred let go of her hand as they approached the unassuming wall.

“Go on, think of what you need. Clearly, you need something,” Fred said, and Hermione looked at him. He was wearing a more neutral face than she was used to, and her eyes narrowed.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” she asked bluntly, and he seemed caught off guard by the question.

“What do you mean? You’re my friend, my apprentice,” he said, but Hermione kept eyeing him suspiciously. Fred sighed, and took a hold of her hand before pacing the wall three times. He opened the small door for her, and Hermione entered a cozy room. It was similar to their common room, with a warm fire burning on one side and comfortable furniture circled around. Books lined the walls, and it was lit warmly. Hermione felt herself relax nearly instantly as she entered the room, and noticed there was a scent of lavender and vanilla to the air.

“Oh,” she breathed, and took a moment to just breathe in the relaxing room. Fred closed the door and gently took her bag. Hermione looked at him with confusion yet again, but forced herself to clear her mind so she could catalog everything. His eyes were still casted away, glancing down almost shyly. His body was still angled towards her, however, relaxed yet anticipatory. His hands drummed lightly along his legs, long fingers and long limbs, with a nervous energy she was unused to. Then she saw it, the barest hint of a blush beneath his freckles. Oh, indeed.

“Fred--” she started with a sigh, and he quickly made a sound to cut her off and guided her to sit in a plush chair.

“Not yet, let me at least try first,” he said, kneeling in front of Hermione while she eyed him a bit sadly. Fred wasn’t stupid. He knew she was interested in someone else, but he also knew that someone was clearly not reciprocating. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t try.

“Hermione, listen. I know that you must not think of me in much of any way, but… well, I think the world of you. You’re so brilliant and hardworking and beyond clever, and I hate that something or someone has upset you so much. I just want to see you happier. I hope that I can, but I also understand if you aren’t interested,” he continued, and she looked at his earnest expression. A look of defeat was already in his eyes, and Hermione stared a moment longer. Fred was wild, but since the holiday break he’d been quite kind to her. He’d offered her a lifeline she needed in asking for her help with his and George’s business. He was also seventeen, nearly eighteen, and therefore closer to her own actual age. Not to mention, he was bloody brilliant himself.

She also had to consider that he was the first person to ever come close to liking her,and admitting it, and it was an interesting feeling, to be wanted. Not in the same way that her friends wanted to have her around, but something… more. It was a little intoxicating. Fred met her eye and sighed, rising up to stand before her. Hermione surprised herself by reaching out and gripping onto the edge of his sweater.

“Fred. I am flattered, really, but I… I like someone else,” she admitted, feeling rather lame as she did. She could only hope he wouldn’t ask who. Fred sighed, and she saw him shrug from the corner of her eye.

“I know you do. I don’t need anything from you, with this. I just want to see you happy, is all,” he said quietly, and sat across from her. She stared him down, relieved but also intrigued by his response. Part of her had thought he would press the issue, but she was also surprised that he knew.

“You… you do?” she asked, and he gave her a quirked grin.

“Of course, Hermione. Couldn’t think of myself as a decent bloke if I just stopped wanting you happy because some other guy caught your eye first,” he quipped, and she smiled in return. “But I’ll still offer to be an ear, if you need it. And you really look like you need it.”

“I don’t think you would believe me if I tried to explain, really. It’s… a lot. I’m not really ready to talk about it, either,” Hermione said, and Fred nodded. The two slipped into a surprisingly comfortable silence in front of the fire. Honestly, she did want to just lay it all out there. Her time turner misuse, her true age, her years of lying to her friends and secret spying on everyone to try to understand their roles in the war. Her attempts at total knowledge. Her total infatuation with her terrible professor. It would be too much to throw on poor Fred all at once. Besides, she thought, she really should tell Harry before anyone else if she were to open up. A overwhelming feeling of sadness welled up in her again.

“You’re a good person, Fred. You shouldn’t bother trying with me,” Hermione muttered, standing up. The comfortable moment was making her feel out of place. She was out of place with everyone, she didn’t need to find false acceptance with yet another person. She would just end up projecting her needing of acceptance onto him, and live yet another lie.

“What are you talking about, Hermione? You’re a good person too. I don’t know what you’ve got going on, besides not doing an apprenticeship anymore. But you don’t have to keep it inside, you know. If not with me, you can tell Harry, or Ron, or any of your friends,” Fred said, remaining sitting but looking up at Hermione with concern. She stared at her feet, clenching her fists at her side.

“I try to be. I am. I just… I don’t know. I’m tired, lately. I should just go to bed,” Hermione finally said, shoulders sagging. She was glad her glamour charm also prevented her general state from being shown. She knew she looked awful, even if she hadn’t removed her charm bracelet since, well, since the beginning of the year. She needed to get herself together.

“I’m sorry,” she sighed and ran out of the room, slipping quickly into an unused classroom to avoid Fred if he followed. 

Hermione sat on the floor after warding the door behind her, only casting a slight cushioning charm on the hard, cold stone. She took a few steadying breaths and settled herself. She was glad Professor Snape hadn’t tried to look into her mind again, because she didn’t have the energy to keep up her shields constantly. Trying just gave her a massive headache.

She closed her eyes and focused on her categorized mind. It was a massive library, holding all her memories. Mental Hermione filled out an index card and filed it in a large cabinet, and with that, put away Fred’s confession, locking away all her feelings on the matter as well. After taking a moment to let that settle, she reopened her eyes. She felt much calmer than she had, even that morning, and rolled her shoulders to ease the discomfort that had lodged in her back from sitting still so long.

Firstly, she decided, no more alone time with Fred. She could not handle building a relationship with him, no matter how wonderful he was. She could not handle that level of intimacy with someone with whom she could not be fully honest. Regardless, even if she wanted to, she already had an overwhelming crush on her professor, and it would feel like a betrayal to everyone to go through with dating Fred but having those feelings. That was settled. He would accept that decision, eventually.

The next thing, she decided, was to stop avoiding Snape. His rejection, while painful, was well within reason. He’d even attempted to be delicate with her feelings, which was much more than she could have hoped for. She could be mature enough to maintain just a working relationship with him. Besides, she needed all the practice she could get on healing potions. If it came down to it, she was also sure she could start hoarding her own infirmary’s worth of potions by brewing extras each batch. It was a distant thought, one that felt unbearably paranoid, but she made the mental note just the same.

Hermione rose from the floor, nodding sharply to herself. With her emotions finally settled, she could return to her cool logic and focus on the bigger threat: Dolores Umbridge and her thrice damned Inquisitor Squad.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dun! Been looking forward to posting this one for a while, actually. Has some of my favorite Hermione dialogue in it, and some fun with Snape towards the end. Enjoy!

A few weeks passed without incident. Hermione guiltily avoided spending any alone time with Fred, who was understanding if not a bit sad. She came out of her depression a small amount, enough to get her friends off her back, and that in itself was a relief.

One night, Harry was running Dumbledore’s Army. It was nearing OWL’s, and they were focusing on reviewing everything they had gone over since starting the study group. Neville had improved vastly on his Expelliarmus, Ron had improved his reflexes, and everyone was getting better and whispering the spell quickly instead of yelling it. It was Hermione’s idea to start practicing towards non-verbal spells earlier than the curriculum taught, as they never knew when an attack could happen. 

As she was further expounding on the importance of non-verbals, a rumbling came from the door. Hermione found Fred, standing nearby, and took his hand nervously, feeling no guilt over her worry. Harry stood before Ginny and Luna, all three of whom put their wands up. Neville and Ron worked together to usher the younger students further back.

Then came a bang, hard enough to make dust rain down from the stones above. Hermione instinctively put herself in front of Fred, despite his greater experience and height, but he wrapped his non-wand arm around her protectively anyway. She saw Ron take Neville’s hand, and Harry put himself in front of the entire group.

Finally, the door blasted open violently, sending bits of rock flying across the room. Shield charms went up across the room, providing a protective dome over the entirety of Dumbledore’s Army. As the dust cleared, a figure in pink emerged, giggling in a disgustingly smug way. Hermione fought the urge to curse the smile of Umbridge’s face as she dragged in a red faced and tearful Marietta Edgecomb. Hermione was glad she’d only charmed to paper to curse someone if they willingly turned in the club.

“So this is what Dumbledore has been building? An army of incompetent students?” Umbridge sniffed, and Hermione realized that Fred had yanked her wand arm down as she went to say a curse. Incompetent indeed. She was trailed by now Ministry worker Percy Weasley, and Fred tensed behind her. Two Aurors accompanied Minister Fudge, and Hermione was able to recognize Kingsley Shacklebolt to her relief. Finally, a smug group of Slytherin’s, the Inquisition Squad headed up by Draco Malfoy, were grinning wildly. They moved quickly, wands trained on students as they were escorted out of the room of requirement. Kingsley grabbed Harry’s arm, giving him a look as he struggled, and Percy Weasley yanked Hermione from Fred’s grip.

“Traitor!” Fred hissed at his brother, and Percy pretended not to hear it as he hurried to Dumbledore’s office, nearly dragging Hermione as he did. All she could do was think as she looked at her fellow students being taken along by the Slytherins at wand point. There would be a way out of this. There had to be. She looked desperately at Fred, hoping he would have some antics to help get some of the students away, but he and George both shook their heads sadly, faces like stone. She told herself to think. 

After what seemed like an eternity of fear, the large group stormed Dumbledore’s office. The old Headmaster seemed to be waiting for them, even as he sat behind his desk drinking tea. Hermione watched his eyes flicker to Harry for a brief moment before looking at the Minister.

“It seems you’ve brought an entire party up to my office, Cornelius. What can I do for you this evening?” he asked, feigning ignorance. It worked to rile up Fudge, who was already starting to turn red with fury.

“We’ve found your little army, Dumbledore!” Fudge hissed, shoving a wrinkled piece of paper at the Headmaster. It was labeled Dumbledore’s Army and had the names of all the students written down, with the location at the bottom. Hermione recognized that it was not her handwriting, as that sheet was at Grimmauld and therefore safe from Umbridge. The handwriting looked wrong, like it had been written haltingly. A flare of rage went up in her as she realized that Marietta may have been Imperiused to write it, something that did not seem beyond the foul pink toad.

Dumbledore took hold of the paper gently, scanning it over before nodding simply, setting it down on his desk, and pouring himself another cup. He took a long, luxuriating sip, and sighed pleasantly. 

“Well Fudge, you’ve done it. You’ve found my army. Now you know that I am truly trying to take you to war to oust you from the Ministry,” he said with only slight regret and heavy sarcasm that went right over the Minster and Umbridge’s heads. Fudge sputtered for a moment, in shock that Dumbledore actually admitted his crimes.

“Professor! It was my--” Harry started, but was silenced with a wave of Dumbledore’s hand.

“It has my name all over it, quite literally as you can see. It is not Potter’s Army, now is it?” he said with a wink, and finally stood. Hermione noticed Fawkes roosting in the rafters above him, watching the scene with interest. She realized he had a plan, and wished heavily that she could mentally communicate with Harry. She tried to catch his eye, but he was still silently yelling at his mentor.

“Then you admit it! Albus Dumbledore! You are therefore under arrest for conspiracy of treason! You are relieved of this post. Dawlish, Shacklebolt, grab him!” Fudge shrieked, and the two wizards approached him cautiously. Dumbledore took a step backwards and put his hands on his hips with a twinkle in his eye.

“Oh, terribly sorry, but you seem to be under the impression that I will, oh what’s the phrase, come quietly?” he said, and put his hands in the air. Immediately, Fawkes dove towards his master and the moment Dumbledore’s hands touched his talons, a great pillar of flame enveloped them, and as it disappeared Fudge realized that Dumbledore was gone, staring at the spot dumbfounded. Finally he moved, signaling for the Aurors to follow, and Percy finally let go of his charge. As they left the room, Hermione looked to Harry who was trying to figure out exactly what just happened, and she was anxious to talk to him so he would not make the situation worse. Umbridge recovered after a few moments, then went to the center of the room, getting the attention of all the stunned people surrounding her.

“Well, as the Headmaster has been deposed, according to Hogwarts statutes, I am now Headmistress. Every name on this list will now have nightly detention with me until further notice. Inquisitor Squad, please do escort these troublemakers back to their dorms,” she said with a terrible impression of kindness, moving her hands in a shooing manner. However, as soon as the students cleared out on the floor outside the office, the stairs suddenly became a slide and a screeching sound began and a few moments later, Umbridge landed unceremoniously on her ass in front of everyone, with the statue setting itself firmly back in front of the stairs.

Everyone stared for a moment then burst out into laughter, even the nasty Slytherins who had been gleefully mocking the students they were ushering just a few moments earlier. Thoroughly humiliated, Umbridge struggled to right herself and after a very embarrassing amount of time came back to her feet and smoothed her skirt, face red with fury and shame.

“Well! I gave an order, go!” she seethed, and Malfoy stuck his wand into Hermione’s back. She fought the urge to kick him in the knee. He leaned over her to whisper in her ear, which made her shudder with disgust and unease.

“You heard her, Mudblood. Get moving,” he hissed, and Hermione elbowed him as she took off towards the dorms. He followed her, still with his wand trained on her, and lead the pack. She was furious, but did not want to start a full on battle in the middle of the hallway. It was agony as they were marched up to Ravenclaw dorms, then Hufflepuff’s, and finally all the way back up to Gryffindor, just to give them the runaround. Malfoy grabbed Hermione’s arm when they arrived, and motioned for everyone else to go in first. Harry lunged for Malfoy, but got shoved back by a seventh year. Fred decked him, and trained his wand on Malfoy who had Hermione around the waist. 

“Let. Her. Go,” Fred growled, and Hermione found herself glad for his protectiveness, if not a little embarrassed. Malfoy just smirked and tightened his grip, letting his hand grasp her breast. Hermione flinched and he smirked.

“Accept the new order, Weasel. You don’t stand a chance,” Draco hissed in return, and Hermione took his distraction to stomp on his foot then jam her own wand under his throat. He quickly released her and put his hands up defensively. He understood what it was like to be on the wrong side of Granger’s wand.

“Put your hand on me again, Malfoy, and you won’t have a hand any longer. Just because Umbridge made you into a pet does not give you a pass to do whatever you want without consequence. Go on and tell your Death Eater father I’ve threatened you if you want, but I’m sure I’ll be fighting him face to face soon enough to tell him myself. Oh, wait, don’t you cowards use masks?” she told him with cold clarity, and when he opened his mouth to refute her, Hermione managed a silent repelling curse. Malfoy went flying down the hall, and she turned to the rest of the Slytherins that had been shoving students through the door of the dorm.

“If any of you try to grab any one of us again, I will personally curse you so profoundly that it will carry down your families like a disease. Leave. Now.” she said, training her wand on the seventh year that Fred had decked, then moving her wand down the line. Draco finally got up and nodded to the Slytherin’s, giving Hermione wide berth as he fled down the stairs. The others followed, though not without nasty looks.

Hermione sighed as the last one left her sight, and was startled as someone picked her up and spun her around quickly. Fred Weasley whooped victoriously as he lifted her, then pulled her face to his and kissed her soundly on the lips. Hermione froze, unsure how to react. Her adrenaline was still pumping, her heart racing, and for a moment Hermione kissed back. He was soft and tasted like sweets as his lips worked skillfully against hers. It was nice, if not weird. She pulled back to the cheering of the Gryffindors.

“Hell, Hermione! I’d never seen Malfoy so afraid! I’m glad you’re on our side!” Ron laughed as Hermione was put back down by Fred. Her mind was reeling, and even the praise from her classmates was too much to bear. She shrank from their grouping around her, and with a dizziness she didn’t anticipate, Hermione shoved her way into the dorm and towards her stairs. 

It was too much to process. She couldn’t think, she couldn’t breathe. Hermione was hardly aware of collapsing before the entrance to her dorms, except for the pain in her legs as she fell. Everyone’s concerned voices were a static buzz beyond the sound of her heart in her ears and a dreadful screaming sound, which she was startled to realize came from herself. 

Hermione clutched at her chest, trying to will air into her lungs. She was hardly even aware of someone lifting her into their arms as she blacked out, unable to handle anything further. The scent of gunpowder and mint was the last thing she was aware of before losing consciousness.

\--

Hermione opened her eyes with a start, gasping a great lungful of air before she realized she could still breathe. The room was dark, but she could tell from the scratchy sheets that she was in the infirmary. Memories of the destruction of Dumbledore’s Army flooded her mind as Hermione struggled to get out of the bed. She had plans to make, she had to make sure everyone would be okay! She had to protect everyone!

Madame Pomfrey came out of her office tuttering at Hermione, and easily pushed her back into bed.

“Blast it child, sit still, you need to calm yourself or you’ll have another panic attack! Drink this,” she ordered, shoving a vial into Hermione’s shaking hands. Despite her frantic worry, Hermione still sniffed the vial and realized it was a calming draught she had brewed. She downed it in one gulp, vowing to find a way to make the potion more palatable to taste. The potion took hold quickly, and Hermione felt herself relax, her thoughts slowing to a manageable rate. Madame Pomfrey watched and took the vial after, tucking Hermione back into bed.

“You’ve only been asleep an hour, Miss Granger. You had a panic attack and Mr. Weasley took you here. He thought that Mr. Malfoy may have cursed you, but I can assure you that is not the case,” she explained, and Hermione nodded slowly.

“It’s after curfew, anyway, so you’ll be staying here tonight. I know that the events of the night were stressful, and I want you to at least try to relax for one night. The world will not end in a matter of hours. In the morning, I will speak with you about managing an attack in the future. For now, sleep. I’ll leave a sleeping potion here-- if you cannot sleep in an hour, I want you to take it,” she continued.

“Alright,” Hermione unwillingly agreed, and the matron gave her a soft smile.

“I know it must have been a terrifying experience, Miss Granger, but you really are quite alright now. Try to rest-- you will feel much better for it. Good night,” she said before leaving Hermione’s bedside and going back to her quarters. 

Hermione eyed the sleeping potion warily, and settled back into bed. She let her mind wander over what she could remember, and put her hands over her face. It was honestly such a mess. Thankfully, she had outlined contingency plans in her journal, and in the morning she could implement them. It had been unwise to threaten Malfoy so openly, but honestly she had no clue what the boy was capable of anymore, and was not keen to find out. 

Now that she was no longer in battle mode, Hermione found what worried her the most was Fred kissing her. He knew she was not interested in that way, but kissed her anyway. He’d been so possessive in the ordeal, and now she was positive that everyone would assume they were dating.

A part of her wondered if that would be the worst thing, dating Fred. He was incredibly kind to her, even after being rejected. The redhead was also impossibly brilliant, especially with potions and charms, and never failed to amaze Hermione with his creativity and ambition. He was also a skilled fighter, brave, and more than a little handsome. Not to mention, he was still clearly infatuated with her. His emotions came to him easily, with happiness being primary, but he had not been petty at all after she confessed to liking another, and that in itself was attractive.

But he wasn’t a tall, dark wizard hell bent on driving everyone away. 

She’d even kissed Fred, which was nice. But that’s all it was. Her heart had only been racing from facing down Malfoy, not from his touch. He tasted like Honeyduke’s, but a little smoky, but Hermione couldn’t help but try to imagine the way Severus Snape would taste instead. She was torn between bitter black coffee, or maybe the dark heat of firewhiskey. Either way, she wasn’t thinking of Fred. Even as she tried, she could only picture Snape’s face if the rumor mill reached him. Would he be jealous, hurt? Would he feel relieved that her schoolgirl crush had dissipated? She wished it would. Life would be easier.

Life was never easy for the overachieving witch that was Hermione Granger.

Morning came after a fitful rest and no sleeping potion, at which Madame Pomfrey frowned. However, after a long lecture about relaxation techniques and how to recognize and handle a panic attack when it happened, the nurse let her ward go. 

Harry was incredibly relieved to see Hermione at breakfast, and embraced her tightly before ushering her into a seat between him and Fred, who was watching her with concern. Hermione tried hard to ignore the looks as Harry caught her up on what happened after she fainted. She grew annoyed with his concern, and Fred’s, especially as the latter put his hand on her shoulder in a comforting motion.

“Will you all back off! I’m quite fine, it was just a panic attack, nothing to get in such a snit about!” she finally hissed, frustrated with all the attention she was getting. Harry flinched, but Fred recoiled as though he’d been slapped. She really didn’t have the energy to deal with his hurt feelings at the moment, honestly. After shoving a biteful of toast into her mouth, she stood, no longer able to handle the oppressive silence after her outburst.

“Meet me in the library before dinner, I have plans for the DA, and ideas on how to handle the Toad now that… well, now. I’ve got to go,” Hermione said to Harry, who nodded sullenly. She couldn’t really handle looking at Fred, not with the annoying itch between her shoulder blades that she knew was Snape staring at her. She only spared a glance at the Slytherin table to see Malfoy hunched down and staring at the table, which was better than shooting her a death glare.

She could handle it. She could fix it. Besides, Hermione knew she really didn’t have a choice. She suppressed a groan when she heard footsteps following her, and continued to make her way towards Ancient Runes. 

“Hermione! Wait!” Fred called out. Hermione paused, unwilling to turn around, and he caught up to her and stood before her, mildly panting from running.

“I wanted to apologise for yesterday. I shouldn't have kissed you, that was uncalled for. I know you still don't feel that way about me. I shouldn't have taken advantage of the moment. I am sorry,” he murmured sincerely. Hermione searched his face for a moment and found him honest. She sighed, feeling a bit of her wound up tension ease.

“It's… it's whatever, Fred. Now more than ever, I don't have the time or energy to deal with it. I have plans to make and spells to create, you know,” she said, trying to look at least a bit regretful over what could have been. Fred nodded, smiling a little knowingly.

“I need to tell you something. George and I discussed it last night… we’re leaving early. Not sure when, but it'll be a show. Definitely going to leave a giant mess for the Toad to deal with. I just wanted to give you heads up,” he said, swiftly changing the subject and grinning madly like the troublemaker he was. Hermione raised her brows, surprised, but grinned softly in return. It made sense for them, even if a part of her was still upset they wouldn't sit their tests.

“Well, I’ll try to make sure to have a reference book for you set up. Business formulas to use for balancing spreadsheets, best organizational tactics for inventory, investment techniques and such. Totally boring, but necessary. Consider it a parting gift,” she said, and he smiled, eyes coming to rest on her lips for a moment.

“I’ll treasure every word. And don't worry, you’ll always be sent testers of all new products. You're a partner in this, now,” he joked, and kissed her check before walking off while she rolled her eyes, rolling her shoulders at the tingle between them. When she turned around, Hermione saw no one. Still, she stayed standing in the corridor, eyeing the corner of the hall for a few moments.

“Professor, are you stalking me?” she asked blandly, raising a brow in a poor imitation of the professor she was calling out. Her lips couldn’t help but form a smirk when the dark stare of Professor Snape came out from behind the corner, his quick footsteps bringing him nearly flush against her.

“I do not make a habit of stalking students, Miss Granger,” he hissed after making sure no one else was in the hallway. Hermione looked up at him, her grin utterly unrepentant. 

“So this is a one time exception?” she quipped, trying not to laugh as his face darkened further, and she heard a low growl come from the back of his throat. She tried to remember when she stopped being afraid of him. Certainly, she still was when he confronted her in the library. Perhaps, she wondered, it was because scarier things than him were already happening in her life. Detention and harsh words could hardly hold a candle to a silently fought war.

“Absolutely not. My coming up the hall was a mere coincidence. As a professor, it is my duty to ensure no miscreants commit any public displays of affection without due punishment,” he lied, and Hermione fought a snort of derision. If he wasn’t so in control of himself, she was sure that he would have been blushing at how terrible his lie came out.

“Well, I don’t see any of those around here. Fred was only apologizing for being… excitable last night, following the madness of our capture. I’m sure the staff room had a frenzy this morning,” Hermione mentioned, and Snape just looked annoyed.

“You’ve no idea. She’s worse than ever and will only grow more unpredictable as her tenure goes challenged by the entire school, including the castle. But that is enough of that. Do not allow your lovers’ quarrel to disrupt class,” he returned with a snarl, and Hermione finally lost her grip and laughed, quickly covering her mouth with her hand. She was mortified, and felt terrible about his offended face, but it was honestly so off base that she couldn’t help it.

“I’m sorry, sir, but Fred and I are not lovers. He may want for that, but someone else has caught my eye,” Hermione explained, boldly looking Snape in the eye. She surprised herself with that bit of stupid bravery, and a quiet moment passed between them. She watched as a flicker of shock flashed across his face, his eyes crinkling in suspicious confusion. For only a bare moment, he leaned in closer when they were already dangerously close. He quickly caught himself and took a massive step back, saying nothing as he retreated. 

With a blush across her cheeks, Hermione hurried back to the main hallway that would take her to class, careful to keep her head down to avoid anyone noticing the dopey grin on her face.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda short and sweet, but things are about to amp up.

What was she playing at? Snape paced his office between classes, his mind on the openly honest face of the young witch that had somehow gotten under his skin. She had openly admitted to her crush on him, to him, and he could not see when the other shoe was going to drop. Clearly, she was being driven mad by her extended time turner use. He could see no other reason that the otherwise bright young woman was drawn to him. Countless others would have listened to her story, bore the weight of her secrets without judgement or threat. She had many Gryffindors to listen to her, to take full advantage of her profound knowledge. Why had she chosen solely him?

The question puzzled him for the rest of his classes, leading to him taking less points even as he continued to yell at every idiot that dared breathe in his presence. He knew that there was something that he was missing about the equation. Why would she reveal her secrets to a double agent, one who had only been cruel to her? How could she call him beautiful after he’d so often insulted her? 

He was still brooding over it that evening in his potion lab as he nurtured an experimental brew, focusing on every minute detail of the potion instead of the small, enigmatic smile that had graced Hermione’s face when she informed him she only had eyes for someone who was absolutely not Fred Weasley. Snape almost didn’t notice the shuddering of his wards as the door opened, and the witch that had occupied his thoughts all day stepped in.

“Don’t mind me, sir, just came with a list from Madam Pomfrey for the infirmary. I’ll stay out of your way,” Hermione mentioned, hardly noticing as he froze and gave her an incredulous glare before continuing with his own movements. She went to the storage closet for her ingredients and set up multiple cauldrons before taking off her robes and folding up the sleeves of her shirt. He watched as she prepared her ingredients for three different potions, switching knives between each one and lining them up in order of when they would be needed. Without her charm bracelet on, her legs looks a little longer and more defined as he eyed them, her skirt stopping just over her knees. She seemed slighter than before.

Snape was finally able to leave his potion alone, as it needed to rest for a full day before the next stage would begin. Hermione was focused on beginning her potions, a notebook out and a self writing quill furiously scribbling notes for her. He realized she was making the same potion three times, and curiosity for that won out for the moment.

“What are you doing, Miss Granger?” he asked in a harsh tone, only mildly annoyed that she didn’t even pretend to be startled by his sudden closeness. After a moment, she managed to mumble something about experimenting with calming draughts. At that, he was truly surprised. She had managed to follow his directions easily before, but he hadn’t known Granger to be experimental with her potions before. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, and she hardly seemed to be paying him any mind as she carefully mirrored her movements in triplicate before reaching little differences. 

He crossed to the other side of the table to watch her more clearly, his wanting to understand more important than trying to feign disinterest. With one, she had honey. Another had chocolate. And the last had some vanilla beans. Ah, so the taste was the experiment of the night. It was where he’d started himself, all those years ago. Only, he added butterscotch to a headache potion. He was interested to see if she could modify the potion to remain stable and effective while incorporating the flavors.

Given that her process would take some time, he instead focused on her face. He was disheartened by what he saw. She looked, frankly, like hell. Dark bags lined her light brown eyes, her cheeks were somewhat tight from exhaustion and lost weight. The last few weeks had to have been difficult, but last night had put her over the top into the overwhelmed category. Still, he begrudgingly admitted to himself that she was beautiful, regardless. 

He hadn’t wanted to admit it, but he was only lying to himself to deny it. Her physical attractiveness was not the issue, however. Attractive women were around him due to his duties, with some frequence. Narcissa Malfoy was a great, regal beauty. For all her insanity, Bellatrix Lestrange had been a dark femme fatale in her youth. There were a number of Death Eater sympathizers who were very alluring women. In the Order, Tonks had a natural beauty from her mother, Andromeda. Fleur Delacor was part Veela, for Hell’s sake. The problem was in his growing fascination with every aspect of the damned witch. 

He understood his interest when she dangled her observations in front of him. She had indeed realized things about his friends and cohorts that he’d been too busy being a horrid bastard to see himself. She was trustworthy and, as far as they saw, honest. She was privy to more information than he was, some of which was useful for planning Order missions. Not to mention her wholly unexpected secretive side. The chit had managed to conceal years of illegal time magic from everyone! The headmaster never brought up Granger in any of their meetings or plans, however foolish that was. The growths at her side that were her friends had not seemed to notice anything amiss. 

He never would have expected her ability to hide such a significant part of herself from everyone. He hated how much of himself he saw in her. Smart beyond reason and ostracized for so long for it, dedicating her life to the protection of those she loved, but yet for such different reasons. She still had friends who would love her despite her secrets. She would not be abandoned, she would always have support. Surprisingly, Snape found, he enjoyed being part of that support. 

“Sir?” came her quite voice, startling him out of his reverie. She blinked owlishly at him, her potions resting in their cauldrons. The smell in the room was quite nice, and he noticed the color on each still looked correct.

“How did you modify each potion?” he asked suddenly, and she gave him a wry smile. He knew she realized he was dodging her unvoiced question from catching him staring at her. Still, she humored him.

“For the honey, it required a longer boiling time, and the honey had to go in earlier than the moonstone. For the chocolate, it was at the end and I had to change the stirring pattern. The vanilla I had to mix with the hellabore. I’d been doing some arithmetic calculations, first, based on the ingredient properties, to formulate the best way to infuse the flavors. They needed to be relatively simple. The chocolate, I’m worried about,” she explained, tucking a curl of hair behind her ear. It revealed her slim neck, distracting Snape for a bare moment.

“That is… impressive. They should be tested, though, to ensure full effectiveness,” he murmured, allowing himself a small smile when she beamed at his praise. She corked them up, labeling them carefully, then put one of each in her bag. He raised a brow.

“Madam Pomfrey wants me to keep some calming draught on me at all times, now,” she explained with a shrug, but he only stared at her. In the staff meeting last night, held without the Head Toad, there had been no mention of a reason for Granger to need to keep such potions on her person. The pink terror and absence of Albus had been the main focus, with concern spared for the children towards the end. It seems something was missing from what the professors knew.

“Why?” he demanded, though his tone was still quiet and gentle. He could see her walls come up as she closed up, and he realized that while she had occluded him before, when he had invaded her mind, he had not actually seen her occlude while only speaking. Alarm bells went off in his head as he saw the distant look in her eyes and her impassive face turn to speak to him.

“After Umbridge and her toy soldiers nearly caved in our practice room on us, and after Professor Dumbledore vacated his office, Malfoy attempted to drag me off alone. He grabbed me and touched me inappropriately, and in front of my dorm mates and his lackeys. I was forced to use a repelling curse on him to get him off of me, and after that, Fred forced a kiss on me. I had a panic attack, after that. Madam Pomfrey said they may be more frequent, for a while, until my body isn’t so afraid of having one that it triggers one,” she explained calmly, as if repeating what had happened in a book. He stared at her with shock, his jaw tightly clenched.

“Oh, I’m also fairly sure that Marietta Edgecomb was put under Imperius to write out the group list. Our detentions may involve another Unforgivable, I’m afraid. At the very least, we’re all going to end up scarred and anemic from blood loss.”

Snape watched as her eyes flickered behind her shields for a moment, genuine fear showing out before she clamped down on it again. He sighed, reaching out to touch her arm, which trembled under his fingertips.

“It is not healthy to force your shields up when you need to process,” he murmured, and she turned an accusatory glare his way. He held up a hand in defense. “I am well aware of that by experience.”

Hermione continued to shiver, and gulped down air while she let the shields lower. Tears immediately welled up in her eyes, even as she fought to remain stoic before him. With a sigh, Snape slowly opened his arms in invitation, surprised as she threw herself against his chest with a choked sob. He closed his arms around her, touching her back gently and feeling entirely too stiff and uncomfortable. He never did know how to comfort a crying woman, particularly one who had been dealt such a terrible hand.

He opened his mouth to speak a few times, but did not have words for the situation. Their rebellion group was exposed and now effectively prisoner to a particularly loathsome captor. What was worse, a fellow student had not only assaulted her, but also humiliated her in front of her friends and tormentors. He understood that particular pain. That idiotic fool of a redhead had just compounded the issue by taking advantage of a freshly assaulted woman! He had half a mind to destroy them both. With that thought, he tightened his arms around her, and let his chin rest on her head.

Her arms came around him, her hands pressing against his back to hold him close. He considered the novelty of it. Her crying quieted, but she remained holding him silently for a while longer. He allowed it, only feeling marginally guilty about his enjoyment of her form against his. Once again, his mind was screaming at him for the impropriety, but he decided that just for a night, he could shut that part down.

Hermione pulled away only slightly and looked up at him, eyes red rimmed and unfathomably dark in the dim light of the lab. She searched his face, as if memorizing every detail of the moment. He eyed her curiously, feeling rather like a cat led by a mouse, when she surprised him by leaning forward and up, pressing her cheek against his. He held his breath, frozen, unsure of any action in the moment. He felt the corner of her lips against his, then she pulled away. The feeling of her face against his was less than a second, but left him feeling warmed. She grabbed her bag and crossed the room to the door quickly, giving him a sheepish smile and a muttered word of thanks before leaving.

In her absence, he touched his cheek and nearly smiled.


	14. Chapter 14

Everything seemed to happen so quickly after the intimate moment Snape shared with Hermione. The two barely saw each other outside of class as she threw herself into preparing for her OWLs, and secretly Fred and George’s departure. Her exams went well, and despite her heavy class load, Hermione found herself with time to spare while she waited for Harry and Ron to finish their exams. Her mind was grateful for the short time to relax and just not have to think. They had been dealing with Umbridge’s detentions as well, as her itching and scarred hand attested to.

Suddenly, an explosion rang out from the main hall. Startled and terrified, Hermione instantly drew her wand and went to investigate. Golden sparkles were raining down, and she saw Fred and George on brooms, snickering as they threw another firework at the closed doors to the Great Hall, where the last of the exams were being held. They threw another, which was strong enough to burst open the doors. Hermione watched with delight as the twins set off fireworks over the screeching Umbridge, creating a massive dragon that chased the Toad out of the exam room to the cheers of other students.

Harry and Ron found their way to her side as the three followed the commotion out to the courtyard, laughing joyfully as Fred and George sent fireworks in every directions and rained Weasley Wizarding Wheezes down upon the rest of the students. Hermione made eye contact with Fred, and in a moment of wistfulness, blew him a kiss. He dramatically caught it, then swooped down and captured her lips with his own. The kiss was firm but short, and as he pulled back she felt more than heard his whispered goodbye against her lips.

Just as quickly as the commotion had started, it was over, with the twins flying away behind glittering lights and the shrieking of Umbridge as she tried to dispose of the remaining fireworks only to find they multiplied and insulted her. 

That was when Harry gripped her arm, and everything turned on its head. Hermione and Ron worked together to inconspicuously move Harry out of the courtyard and listened to his strained, fearful whispers of his vision, of Sirius being held by Voldemort, about to be killed. Much later, Hermione would be grateful she at least managed to get Harry to try to check before running off, for all the good it did. With Umbridge out of her office to deal with the aftermath of the Weasley twins leaving Hogwarts, the trio was able to easily sneak in to use her Floo fireplace.

Hermione knew Kreacher was lying. His eyes were shifty and his voice sneering. He’d been that way the previous summer, and during the holiday break. Anytime she, Harry, or Ron tried to speak with him, the elf would only sneer something insulting and ignore them, or tell them something completely false until Sirius came and yelled at him. Then, he would bow and be begrudgingly accommodating.

“Harry, he’s lying. There is no way on earth Sirius left. Why don’t you try your journal?” Hermione pleaded, but just as Harry opened his mouth to respond, the door slammed open and Umbridge entered, followed by her Inquisitor Squad. The Slytherins instantly grabbed the trio, with Malfoy clearly recovered from his humiliation by Hermione’s wand. 

“What the hell are you doing in here? Trying to poison me again? Going to hex my office? Spit it out, Potter! Wait, were you trying to use my Floo?! Who were you talking to?!” Umbridge demanded, but the teens kept their jaws tight. With a frustrated grunt, Umbridge shoved them aside to yell into the green flames for Professor Snape, who quickly came to the tense room. He entered to the sounds of Umbridge yelling herself hoarse at Harry, who was stubbornly glaring at her until Snape arrived.

“Ah, Severus, please be a dear and fetch me some Veritaserum, Potter has been using my Floo to communicate and refuses to tell me with who!” Umbridge yelled, and Snape raised a brow as he looked around the room. His eyes came to rest on Hermione for a brief moment, who quickly shoved thoughts to the front of her mind for his perusal.

“HE has Sirius!” she thought loudly at him, but his eyes were off hers within a second and he made no motion that he understood, much to her frustration.

“Unfortunately, Professor, I’m fresh out. In a month, my next batch should be completed. Have you truly used all I have provided?” he asked, knowing full well he given her a tainted and ineffective batch. The woman went red, glowering at him.

“You’re no help at all, Snape. Fine, leave! I’ll deal with these brats!” Umbridge seethed, and Snape turned to leave. Hermione’s throat leapt in her throat. She didn’t expect a rescue, but it still stung that he turned without another glance her way. She had been a damned fool, she knew, to have ended up in that mess. Still, she almost wanted to pout.

“Wait! He has Padfoot!” Harry burst out, causing every face to snap in his direction. Hermione nearly rolled her eyes. Subtle, Harry. Very subtle. Snape merely raised a brow with bored confusion. “He has Padfoot in the place where it’s hidden.”

“Whatever is he talking about?” Umbridge demanded, at which Snape shrugged.

“I’m sure I have no idea,” he muttered, before blessedly looking at Hermione again. She knew he understood-- he’d be an idiot if he didn’t, knowing what they knew. He nodded, only slightly, and left the room. She knew he’d contact the Order. Now, if only she could find a way to tell Harry.

“What is a Padfoot? Tell me, Potter! Don’t force me to make you!” Umbridge threatened, raising her wand towards Harry. Hermione heard her own voice cry out before she even realized it, a plan forming rapidly in her mind.

“Just tell her, Harry! Tell her or I will!” she cried, and Harry snapped his head to look at her, wide eyed and confused. Hermione never told on them, and especially not for something as important as a missing Order member. Umbridge took the bait with horrific glee, rounding on Hermione quickly.

“Tell me what?” she asked, sounding sickly sweet, and Hermione shamefully cast her eyes down, even letting them water with tears.

“Dumbledore’s secret weapon,” she whispered, only smirking in her mind. Umbridge fell for it, and with a confused Harry and Ron at her side and a viciousness in her heart that was still somewhat foreign but growing strong, especially with Umbridge trailing them at wandpoint down to the Forbidden Forest. The daft witch was going on and on about how Fudge was going to be so proud of her for finding Dumbledore’s secret weapon, that she could finally be promoted. As if.

She hadn’t been counting on Gwarp. And Hermione hadn’t counted on the centaurs. It wasn’t that she wanted Gwarp to do anything bad, really, but just needed to scare Umbridge and create time for the Order to fix what was going on. She had hoped that, with luck, the issue would be solved before they could get back to the castle. Hermione could apologize to Hagrid later, for revealing his secret half-brother. 

But then, the centaurs showed up and Hermione could feel her empathy completely shut down. Umbridge, surrounded by the centaurs, begged her for mercy, to tell them that she meant no harm. She felt positively cold when she smiled cruelly, telling the professor that she shouldn’t lie, before turning her back on her and leading Harry and Ron away to the sounds of Umbridge shrieking not out of rage, but horror. It was strangely easy to do, and Hermione locked away the tendrils of guilt that began to leak out. Now was not the time.

Luna, Ginny, and Neville came running down from the castle to meet with Hermione and her friends, and Harry explained that he had called for them with the charmed Galleon when Umbridge was first attacked by Gwarp. Hermione was furious as Harry explained to the other teens his plan to go to the Ministry and free Sirius himself.

“Harry James Potter! We shall do no such thing! Kreacher was lying to us about Sirius being gone! You haven’t even tried your journal--” Hermione started to rant, but Harry waved his arm, cutting her off.

“He could be dead by the time we check, Hermione! I know what I saw!” he yelled in return, fury reddening his cheeks and sharpening his eyes. Hermione took a step back, biting the inside of her lip. She could check so easily, in her own journal, but how could she explain to Harry how she had the knowledge of exactly where Sirius was? There wasn’t a hope in Hell that he wouldn’t immediately freak out on her, probably destroy her own journal and then his own and demand she never speak to him again. A heavy stone settled on her gut as she realized that spying on an Order member, even if for his own good, would likely keep her from ever actually joining the Order at all. 

In her hesitation, Harry acted. Luna lead them all to a clearing that looked empty to Hermione, Ron, and Ginny. Luna and Harry stroked the air, and explained the presence of thestrals. With their help, the others were able to get on the backs of the invisible beasts, and Hermione refused to listen to her gut feeling screaming at her how terrible an idea it was as she clung to Ginny fearfully, flying over the wilds of Scotland and to England. She wouldn’t feel her journal grow frightfully warm with the desperation of the Potions Master trying frantically to message her.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :-) here y'all go

It was worse than Hermione could have ever thought. Of course it was a fucking trap, she thought bitterly as she dodged curses and sent off her own, twisting around to keep all her friends in sight. Where the fuck was the Order? She cursed the damned organization in her mind and hurled another binding spell at the silver masked foe that chased her. Ron screamed as some large glass containers were shattered and brains fell upon him. Luna responded quickly, spelling them away and helping him to his feet.

Neville was fighting madly against a laughing Bellatrix Lestrange, who seemed to be merely taunting him instead of dueling. She took Hermione’s bone breaking curse with a screech before turning her sights on the woman who dared injure her, giving Neville a reprieve while Hermione found herself duelling two Death Eaters at once. They found their way to a door, but found it was not a door leading out, but rather into a cold and lonesome room, holding only a doorway on a platform. The doorway gave Hermione chills, but she was quickly overwhelmed by the still masked Death Eater who pressed a wand to her throat. Looking around, she saw that everyone but Harry was caught.

He was speaking with Lucius Malfoy, who was eyeing the silvery prophecy orb desperately. Harry looked around at his friends, panicked guilt clear on his face as he considered the situation. Hermione almost wanted to cry with frustration. Shouldn’t he know better than to just give Voldemort what he wanted? 

Before Harry could hand over the prophecy, the Order finally descended on the room and the battle was back on. Hermione violently kicked the man’s knee and he yelled as he let her go, and she was able to fight her way back to Harry’s side. As she did, she saw Bellatrix Lestrange hungrily eyeing her cousin, Sirius Black, who had arrived and was fighting like a hellion unleashed and leaving himself wide open.

“Sirius!” Hermione yelled as he reached Harry’s side and quipped something to him, ignorant of the madwoman training her wand on him. Hermione sent up a silent shield charm at them then an Expelliarmus at Bellatrix, trying to prevent the flash of green light. Sirius, warned by her call, grabbed Harry and ducked down, sending the light into the doorway with no affect. Breathing gratefully at his dodge from death, Hermione didn’t even make a sound as a spell hit her full in the chest. She saw the man who had been holding her earlier, limping away, and looked down at her chest. The rest of the battle was progressing in slow motion to her as she fell to her knees, staring at the blood from her shoulder to hip in confusion. 

She was the careful one, wasn’t she?  
Hermione was unconscious before she even fell back on the floor, unaware of Voldemort’s arrival or his and Dumbledore’s duel, or even Remus Lupin as he transported her back to Hogwarts with the rest of the injured.

\--

Severus Snape was a man who dealt with bad news very easily. He never flinched at the names of the dead, or being the one to read them off. He saw grave faces with some frequency in the first war, and after the death of his best friend, handled them all with as much emotion as hearing about the weather. Whatever terrible event happened, he took what he needed to do and moved forward with very little thought to what bad had occurred beyond how it impacted future plans. Many felt he was cold hearted for it, but Snape considered himself practical. Any amount of energy or time mourning the dead or ill fated was better spent on trying to prevent any future mishaps.

However, when he was summoned to the infirmary, holding children he had taught for five years, all injured and one nearly dead, he felt his heart stop for a moment. A terrible feeling overcame him as he saw Dumbledore standing in the infirmary, freshly returned from hiding to deal with the aftermath. He and McGonagall were whispering ferociously to each other, hushing when Snape approached. Huddled towards the back of the room were Lupin and Black, with Kingsley and Tonks, all bandaged.

“Severus, dear boy, please hurry over here,” Dumbledore directed, guiding him behind a privacy partition where Poppy Pomfrey was casting an intricate spell over Hermione Granger. She was so pale she was nearly grey, comatose but face still twisted in pain. Pomfrey was desperately trying to knit together a horrific gash across Hermione’s torso, nearly ripping her in half. The edges of the wound were tinted purple and there was a smell of charcoal at the edge of his senses. Snape knew that curse, and knew that Pomfrey’s attempts to hold the wound together would be for naught.

“I’ll take over,” he said simply, flicking his wand and slipping off his now unbuttoned frock coat, letting it fall to the floor at his feet as he shoved up his sleeves, immediately beginning a chant to start the counter curse. The rest of the room did not matter to him, and fell away from his attention as he moved his hand and wand in intricate patterns over the nearly dead witch. With luck, he would save her life and her magic.

He thought about the odd girl he was working so desperately to heal as he moved. She was so brilliant, and he knew she’d been training hard. It was never enough, though, in times of war. He would have expected her to have been caught from behind, and was infinitely curious about who she was distracted saving as to have been caught unawares from in front of her. Dolohov was a sneaky bastard, though, and since Severus had not been able to attend the battle, he would have to find out the details later from the others.

Snape had not hated being a spy so much until that night. When Hermione had practically shoved the situation into his mind, he knew that it was going to be a horrible night. He knew that after his exit, Hermione had tricked Umbridge somehow and gotten her nearly killed by the centaurs, a fate he never thought she was capable of inflicting on someone. He’d tracked down the dog of the Order, finding him at home just as expected. It was in the middle of an argument with Sirius that Dumbledore arrived, and he told the headmaster of his concerns about the students. As the rest of the Order left, Snape left behind so he would not betray his double agent status too early, he felt incredibly frustrated.

Why hadn’t she checked her journal for Sirius’s location? He tried to write her over and over, hoping desperately that they were still on the grounds. Sirius was at Grimmauld, damn it! It was a trap! But she never read the messages, and Snape found himself wishing that he could be in the battle. She was quick and knowledgeable, but had no great experience in battle. He found that he wanted desperately to protect her, and the thought was overwhelming.

When exactly had she wormed her way under his skin so ferociously? He’d initially thought of her as a curious nuisance, a problem laid at his feet to take care of once again. Upon finding out about her illegal time turner use, he expected a sentimental brat who would quickly be assured enough to go tell her friends and move on with her life, using him as a stepping stone in self esteem, a trial run for confession. He never expected that she could be so fiercely secretive, or trustworthy. She was even more intelligent than he ever thought, able to easily discuss difficult potion theory and developing her own spells. Snape was struck by how mature she’d become, beyond the arm waving know-it-all she had been safely categorized as before.

Hermione had become a friend to him, a puzzle to solve. The more he learned about her, the less it seemed he knew. She was still sentimental and all too caring for her friends, but he found her quite able to dispense of enemies when necessary without any outward guilt. She was adept at secret keeping, despite her open face, and had manage to even hide from him her developing crush. She’d somehow taught herself occlumency and he’d realized that her open expressions were part of the careful facade she wore every day. Similar to his unpleasantness and cruelty, she wore a mask of kindness and emotional expression. It was no wonder she was so drawn to him, he thought, when they were so similar.

He hadn’t realized just how much he needed that camaraderie until he saw her grey face, dying on the bed in the infirmary. He hadn’t felt such fear since he realized the Dark Lord was going to kill Lily Potter. Only this time, he had a chance to save the girl. 

It took hours before Snape finished working on Hermione. The light of early morning was teasing its way through the black sky outside. Snape shuddered, feeling completely drained. He had infused some of his magic with hers, to keep her magical core stable. He had also sealed the gash on her torso. Her chest would be scarred forever-- there would be no way to diminish it. Still, he found that the dark pink and jagged line just proved her beauty. She was as fierce a warrior as she was lovely. Sitting in the chair at her side, he sagged with relief, allowing a genuine smile to cross his face. She would live to torment him another day. Blinking, he realized with a start that she was much more than just under his skin. He’d somehow begun to fall for the girl. The revelation would have threatened to overwhelm him, if he weren’t so overwhelmed as it were.

“Severus?” called the quiet voice of the Headmaster as he poked his head into the partition, finding Snape collapsed ungracefully in the chair. He was sweaty and exhausted, and had spelled the sheet under Hermione to cover her. She deserved some modicum of modesty. Dumbledore smiled at the gesture, then summoned a chair to sit next to Snape.

“How does she fare?” asked the Headmaster, and Snape sighed.

“She will live. There will be a lot of pain for the next few weeks. There will be a large scar. With the nature of the curse, there is no way to prevent that. But she will live,” he said, refusing to turn to look at the subject of their conversation. He could just hear her quiet and even breathing, that would be enough.

“Good. We were terrified when she came in, that she had made a great sacrifice. She drew the attention of Bellatrix and another Death Eater, to save Sirius Black from certain death,” Albus explained, and Snape nodded. Of course, she would be noble for the dog.

“Foolish girl,” he growled, but all the bite was gone from his tone. The headmaster smiled slyly at him, and stroked his beard.

“When did you begin to care for the girl, Severus?” Dumbledore asked, causing Snape to freeze where he sat, black eyes darting up to the headmaster’s and glaring suspiciously.

“I am sure I am not aware of any caring,” he spat, knowing damn well it was a lie. Dumbledore nodded, though he still smiled knowingly.

“I mean no insult, Severus. I know you would never behave inappropriately. I am merely curious when she stopped being so annoying to you,” Dumbledore clarified, and Snape relaxed marginally, though he still eyed the headmaster with scorn.

“...She began helping me brew for the infirmary this year. She cited wanting to memorize the potions, be able to make them at a moment's notice in the future. I believe she also wanted to ease my burden, given that she had deduced the depth of my… special role,” he explained, amused at the surprise on his companions face. He glanced at Hermione, smirking at her brilliance surprising Dumbledore, and noticed with some concern that her bracelet had been broken in the battle. It would not be long before the subtle changes would be noticed, no longer able to be explained as exhaustion and damage from the fight.

“And you did not think to tell me?” Dumbledore asked, annoyance finally reaching his voice. It was a tone Snape lived for, as he was not able to annoy the Headmaster often enough to make up for all that he received.

“No. We have a mutually assured destruction. Turned out to be a great foundation for friendship,” Snape said, allowing his smile to widen at the curious expression the headmaster took on. He didn’t get to joke often, it was quite nice when he did. He kept his walls shut, feeling Dumbledore’s attempt to use legilimency to figure out what Snape meant, but pushed out the old man and Snape shook his finger disapprovingly.

“You’re losing your touch, old man. If you want to know what secrets Miss Granger holds, I suggest you ask her after her recovery. It is not my place to tell, it will bear no great importance to your plans, I’m sure,” Snape explained dryly, maintaining his smirk as the Headmaster stood.

“You may enjoy your amusement for now, Snape, but I will know sooner than later,” the Headmaster said quietly then left the privacy of the bedside. Snape let the smile stay on his face, knowing that Hermione had, unintentionally, well and truly pissed of Dumbledore. He felt a little bad for her, but her secret would be out now regardless. He still wouldn’t be forced to give it up without her permission, however.

A wave of exhaustion overcame him, and Snape stood and stretched. He glanced down at Hermione, who already looked healthier despite her coma. She was still bruised and scratched, easy fixes once her magical core was balanced after the traumatic curse. With the sheet hiding the worst of the damage, she looked like she had merely taken a tumble on the grounds and was sleeping it off, not like she’d been in a war fight. 

Snape gently brushed her soft curls from her face, cupping her cheek as he did. She was still warm, her heart beating steadily. He brushed his thumb across her cheek and sighed before sitting back in his chair. He could not fight his compulsion to remain by her side through the night, if only to be sure she would be there in the morning. The image of her moments from death came to mind, solidifying his decision to stretch out his legs in his chair. Anyone who had something to say otherwise could piss off.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a pretty long update, but i just didnt really see a good way to shorten it without it being tooooo short? enjoy it please.

Hermione woke with a fright, gasping in a deep breath before sitting straight up, swallowing a scream.

“Harry! Ron! Where are you? Oh gods, be alive!” She hissed, ignoring the excruciating pain in her chest and flinging herself out of bed, only to take wheezing breaths as she fell to the floor. She shivered on the cold stone, feeling like everything was stealing her breath as she desperately clawed her way out of her privacy partition and found herself in the general infirmary.

To her surprise, Professor Snape immediately lifted her off the floor. With a flush, Hermione realized he had to have been right beside her bed to have reacted so quickly.

“Miss Granger, please desist. I will help you back to bed, and perhaps we can explain to each other,” he drawled, lifting her up into his arms with as much ease as a dropped book. Hermione relished the moment, even as she was panting and sweating from the effort of crawling on the floor. Snape waited for her to catch her breath and settle back into the bed before he spoke again.

“Most of your friends are no longer staying in the infirmary. They are all relatively healed. It is you who took the most damage,” Snape began, settling into the chair by her bed and clasping his hands in his lap as he watched her, a little wary that she would try to leave again.

“You very nearly died. You should not leave this bed without good reason for another week at least. Miss Granger, I… it was an extremely close call,” he explained. Hermione stared at her hands, abashed at the honesty of his tone. She looked up at him with a start when she saw her blank wrist. She paled, but made no mention of it yet. He noticed her faint tremble, and with a sigh he reached out and placed his hand over hers. She stared at it with her brow furrowed, and he quickly retreated as if burned. What sort of fool was he? The girl had barely escaped death and was worried sick about her friends and her future, and he felt like a lech for taking advantage of it.

“It has been two days. You needed intensive healing. You will have a tough road ahead for recovery as well. No one has died. Sirius Black lives to annoy us all another day. Only Mr. Weasley remains in this infirmary, though I believe he leaves today,” he answered, and Hermione blessed him with a indulgent smile. A wave of relief overcame her, along with exhaustion, and she relaxed further into the bed.

“As for your bracelet, it must have been destroyed in the battle. It was not on your person when I was summoned here at your return. Poppy has not mentioned it yet. I believe they attribute your physical change to exhaustion from your injury. It will not be long before they are suspicious,” Snape explained, and Hermione nodded sullenly. 

“Right, I'll need to make a new one before that. Could I trouble you to bring me a watch or something for now? I can do the spells myself but can't use an already transfigured item as an anchor. Wait, I’ll need my bag as well, my journal is in it,” she asked, face serious and eyes thoughtful. He could tell she was already planning out every step post recovery. It pained him to put a damper on it.

“... Hermione, you won't be able to make your bracelet, at least for a while,” he started, cautious and gentle. She froze where she laid, not drawing a breath until she could force herself to look him in the eye.

“Why?” She asked, eyes narrowing. He saw her jut out her chin defiantly, and sighed.

“Your magical core was attacked. It is in recovery, such intensive magic could damage your ability to cast. You must allow yourself rest before attempting anything so strenuous, and even then, you need to build back up to your former strength. It is not gone forever, merely like a broken leg,” he tried to say it as gently as he could. She would have her strength in time, he knew it. He had boosted her recovery effort by lending his own magic to it-- weaving his strong force into hers to bolster the edges of her core and keep it from ripping further under the curse he lifted. Hermione shuddered as tears fell down her face.

“I can't do magic?” She asked, voice a weak whisper as she looked at him, broken and weak upon the bed. He shook his head quickly.

“Of course you can! But doing magic right now can be catastrophic. You have potions to take, but spells could rip open your wound once again. It was a curse specially crafted by Dolohov, to cause physical and magical damage by the same turn. Any attempts at healing spells will undo any normal healing. Even with the counter curse, the spell residuals can react to new magic. You will have all the magical ability you had before, you only need to heal first to use it,” he spoke quickly, leaning forward and gripping her hand tight, impropriety be damned. Hermione gripped his hand in return, her fearful tears slowing down.

“Thank you, Professor. I am so grateful,” she whispered, laying her other hand over his. He could see that she clearly was about to fall asleep again, the exhaustion of the conversation catching up to her. He stood, letting her keep a hold of his hand, and helped adjust her to a more comfortable position. She smiled sleepily up at him, a warmth in her eyes replacing the fear.

“You've no need to thank me, I hardly did anything,” he mumbled, but she slowly shook her head.

“I can feel it, now that I'm paying attention. It's there, your magic is there. It's warm,” she said, awe evident in her expression. He faltered under such a gaze, and looked away.

“You're delusional. I must fetch your potions, now that you're awake. Stay put,” he grumbled, knowing full well she wouldn't leave her bed. Her lilting laugh followed him out of her private area, and he quickly grabbed the procession of potions to bring to her side. Her eyelids were already hooded, as tiredness started to take a hold of her.

“Here, take these. You'll be taking them daily for the next month,” he instructed, passing her potion after potion and only acting annoyed out of habit when she cautiously sniffed each one and muttered the ingredients to herself. One was for strengthening her magical core, another for healing her chest. One for mending the ribs that had broken under the force of the spell, and one for her damaged organs. The last two were a pain potion, and a sleeping potion.

“What time is it?” She asked as she eyed the sleeping potion, more than a little out of it from all her potions. 

“It is just after noon. Poppy is at lunch, I am to be your nurse in her absence,” he explained, lips quirking in an almost smile, then urged her to drink the potion anyway. She complied with minimal protest, already tired and still aching from her panicked awakening.

“Thank you, Severus. You really are a part of me now,” she murmured as she drifted off, and he stared at her sleeping face for a while longer. She had a serene smile on her face, despite her pain, and her hand was held out of the bed towards him. He touched her knuckles gently and laid her arm back up on the cot, committing the softness of her hands to memory.

He heard Ron stir from his own cot and stepped away, face once again stern. He needed to get a grip on himself before he ended up looking like a fool, or worse, getting either of them hurt. He slipped out of the partition hiding her from view with a customary scowl on his face before stiffly tending to the redheaded blighter that was Hermione’s good friend.

“Mr. Weasley,” Snape greeted with a thin sneer, enjoying that even when healing in an infirmary under care of the Potions Master, Ron still shrank into his bed. His pale complexion made his freckles all the more obvious, shifting as Ron frowned strongly.

“Where’s Madam Pomfrey, sir?” Ron asked, having learned well the lesson to call Snape by a title to his face. The Potions Master rose a brow.

“Lunch. She shall be back very soon, I’m sure. What is it, Mr. Weasley?” he asked, expecting that the young man needed help reaching the bathroom, or perhaps a pain potion. He did not expect the brave stare down he got instead, an intense look of concern flashing in his blue eyes. Ah, the boy had been awake longer than before he moved.

“What’s going on between you and Hermione?” the brat demanded, sitting up in his cot to try to look strong. Snape smirked at him, not even needing to read his mind to see the disparaging thoughts running through his head. Snape stepped closer to loom over Ron, looking down his nose at him.

“Nothing that involves you, Weasley,” Snape hissed, stepping away as the doors to the infirmary opened and Madam Pomfrey entered, quickly coming over to take over care of Ron while Snape slipped out of the room, enjoying the daggers being glared at his back over the feeling of regret that her friends could be suspicious of her.

\--

For the next week, Hermione sat in her infirmary bed recovering. The pain in her chest was horrendous, even with pain potions, but was worse when she felt the throb of her magic in her veins, wanting desperately to be used. It created a terrible itch, really, but it eased every day that she rested. She was almost thankful that she was asleep more often than not. She desperately needed it, regardless of her injury.

What helped the most was Professor Snape’s fleeting presence in the Hospital Wing. Every time he came near her bed, she could feel his magic thrum within her. It made her heart race more than it normally did. She tried to watch him covertly when he visited, but quickly tired of it and outright stared. She didn't have many people to observe in the infirmary, since Ron left and the school year ended, and he was the most interesting anyway. Given that the summer break had started, there were very few left in the castle to see her.

He seemed to be in relatively good health, or at least he wasn't seriously injured. He sat with her briefly during lunch, filling her in on what she had missed during her coma.

Sirius Black did not die in the veil, as Bellatrix had intended. In fact, no one died in the battle. Voldemort was forced out in the open by Dumbledore, and his presence finally had to be acknowledged by the ministry. Fudge, the loudest naysayer, was removed from office without ceremony. His replacement, Scrimegor, was unpleasant but necessary, making an effort to fill in where Fudge had slipped up.

The Order was shaken up by the ordeal, however. It was now known to them that Harry and Voldemort had a mental connection, one that Voldemort was aware of and could manipulate. Dumbledore had encouraged Harry’s friends to be vigilant for him, in protecting the young boy from the horrors of the dark wizard hunting him.

Dumbledore had not visited Hermione, even once. She found it a little discouraging, if she were honest with herself. She and the Headmaster we're not terribly close, but she had thought that, perhaps in light of her nearly dying for the sake of the Order, that he would speak to her about the battle. She also worried herself sick that he would realize her aged appearance was not from the strain of the curse.

That confrontation did not come, and Snape seemed hesitant but amused when she mentioned it.

“Ah, the headmaster’s lack of courtesy may be my doing. Your first night here, he inquired into my willingness to help without asking. I hadn't even insulted your comatose ears over the matter,” Snape said during one of their visits, and Hermione raised a brow at him. He looked at his hands, impetuous, and ignored her look of annoyance when he went no further.

“Professor… what did you do,” she asked, and he shrugged in his offhanded way. 

“I may have had a little amusement at his being kept in the dark about our… arrangement. I did not reveal to him anything pertaining to you or your secrets, beyond meeting with me to brew potions. What else you wish to reveal is your prerogative, not mine,” he clarified, and Hermione relaxed her shoulders. 

“I do have a question, Miss Granger,” Snape began, and she scoffed and shook her head. He looked at her with a slight surprise, and she turned to meet his eye.

“Can't you call me Hermione?” She asked, and he gave her the barest hint of a smile. Truly, he could deny her nothing. The thought was frightening, but relaxing all at once. He could give her everything, but she would never abuse that gift.

“Hermione, then.” Her smile warmed him. “We have had difficulty contacting your parents about your condition.”

Just like that, her smile disappeared and was replaced by an emotionless mask. She turned away, casting her eyes out the window across from her bed. It was not a reaction he was anticipating, even if it were a somewhat awkward topic.

“I don’t really want to talk about that,” she said, voice oddly detached, and Snape raised a brow. That was the quickest and harshest she had shut down around him before.

“Hermione…” he started, concerned about her obvious Occluding. She shivered in response, and brought her distant eyes to him.

“Severus,” she returned simply, and he sighed. She was clearly terrified, and he hadn't a clue why the mention of her parents set her off so badly.

“If you are worried about their reaction, you are of age. They will not prevent your return to school,” he tried to explain, startled when tears started pouring down her cheeks. She blinked rapidly and tried to brush them away, hanging her head to hide behind her considerable amount of hair.

“Severus, I did something unforgivable. I’m a horrid person, I don’t deserve your continued protection or help,” she whimpered as she held her face in her hands, bewildering the dark wizard by her side. He had never seen her so deeply upset or emotional about anything, through their entire friendship. She had a cool level head and rigid logic that kept her going through difficult times. Even when she lashed out, she was quick to return to the facts and calm herself down.

The pitiful sorrow emanating off of Hermione was unheard of, and Snape did not like it one bit. He wondered how much she truly Occluded, how much of her true feelings she bottled away.

“I highly doubt that. You’ve already admitted to breaking the law regarding time magic, you held a person captive and blackmailed them. Hell, Umbridge nearly died in the forest. How could it be worse?” he asked, laying out the terrible things she had already admitted to as calmly as stating the weather. After all, he had done far worse and far more. Her shoulders began to shake, and she crumpled further in upon herself. Perhaps listing her sins was not the best idea when she was already upset.

“I Obliviated my parents.”

The sentence was said clearly, her voice dark with self loathing. Despite her hiding her face away, Snape heard her clear as day. He did not speak after her statement, and she turned her head to look at him through her riotous hair, her normally sparkling light brown eyes dark with depression. It was a side he never thought her capable of, but the past year had taught him that the witch was capable of a great multitude of things.

When he failed to respond, Hermione scoffed and turned away again.

“I knew I’d get you to despise me at some point,” she muttered darkly, then turned back. “I’m actually irredeemable, aren’t I?”

Severus broke at the acceptance in her eyes as she looked at him, a grim smile on her face. He mentally cataloged her potions and strained to think if any could result in mood alteration, especially if mixed. Something else had to have changed her into the nihilistic being before him. It disturbed him greatly to hear his own thoughts on himself to come out of her mouth, regarding herself.

“Absolutely not. You are not in need of redeeming. You did that to protect them, didn’t you? You knew the signs and did what you thought was best to protect them. I can’t say its the wrong decision-- who knows what sort of protection they would have otherwise. Please, do not think yourself as anything less than a brave, fierce warrior doing good in this world,” he pleaded, finally responding. 

She sat silently, staring again at her lap before he saw a teardrop land on her hand. She did not look at him again, but he stared at her regardless.

“Thank you, sir. I think I might like to be alone now,” she quietly said before turning over on her side and pulling up her blanket, leaving Severus to stare at her back for a few moments until her breathing slowed and he realized she had fallen into an exhausted sleep.


	17. Chapter 17

Hermione was all that Severus could think about as he paced in his rooms after their meeting, concern tightening the muscles in his back with stress. He knew that darkness he saw in her eyes too well, and hated knowing it resided within her. She had been placed in an unbearable position, and reacted as well as she could. He could have hardly done better. In fact, he knew he had done worse. She had done everything she could to protect both her parents; he had only tried to protect his ex friend with no regard to her family. Hermione had not placed her parents in the attention of a madman-- they would have ended up there by virtue of her existence. Severus, however, willfully gave up his old classmates on a platter, uncaring of their fates.

He needed to do something to ease that depression and self loathing, but before he could do anything for that, he needed to focus on her more immediate problems. Severus knew it was ridiculous to think he could solve everything for Hermione, but he would be damned if he wouldn’t try. She had nearly died, almost ripped from this world and she would have left a gaping maw in his soul. Just as he gave her the recognition she craved for her maturity and dedication, she gave him a place to exist as he was: a tired man sick of his masks. He would do anything to keep her in his life, to keep that balm on his psyche.

Severus spent most of the evening in front of his fire, lounged on his couch and staring into the flames while he contemplated the entire situation. 

Hermione would be exposed for her Time Turner misuse the moment her friends were able to see her for more than a moment outside of her disastrous state in the Hospital Wing. If she were standing before them, a few inches taller and more toned than she had been just before the skirmish in the Department of Mysteries, the jig would very well be up. She had also been essentially stripped of her magic for the remainder of the summer, and very potentially into the new school year if she experienced any complications. That, at least, should go unnoticed as only he knew her true age allowed her to cast at all. To the rest of the Order, her not using magic would be business as usual.

The last complication was Dumbledore. He knew that Hermione was hiding more than her special potions lessons with Severus, and they needed to figure out exactly how much to give up to the old man to get rid of his suspicions and anger. A pissed off Dumbledore, while greatly amusing to Severus, meant a lot of annoyance and anger on his own end. The Headmaster was a bloodhound at sniffing out information and had a great deal of patience at learning what he needed to know. 

A plan began to form in Severus’s mind, and by the time he retired for the evening, he had a solid idea for how to help the girl who had provided him a small semblance of happiness in his life.

\--

The next morning, Severus rose early and headed straight to the Hospital Wing. He had no idea if Hermione would even want to see him after her difficult reveal the day before, but he hoped that giving her a chance for some chance of control would brighten her mood. When he opened the heavy doors to the medical ward, he spotted her sitting partially up, leaning against her pillows and lazily stroking her cat as it laid on her lap. 

Hermione glanced up at his entrance, eyes still half lidded with an exhaustion that went beyond her healing, and she turned her gaze once again to the wall across from her.

“Hello, professor,” she greeted weakly, a bored drawl to her tone. Severus bit back a sigh at her state, and sat next to her bed regardless. Crookshanks, the big orange thing, opened one yellow eye to look him over, then sniffed haughtily and purred louder at Hermoine’s ministrations. 

“Miss Granger. How do you fare this morning?” he asked, feeling curlish as he did. The bland look Hermione gave him just confirmed he was asking an idiotic question, and he hated that he even tried the small talk. It really showed how out of his element he was feeling.

“I am here to discuss with you your options,” he informed her after clearing his throat, gaining a more direct look from her. She turned onto her side to face him fully, displacing her cat who merely repositioned himself to continue to snuggle against her. Her brows furrowed as she considered Snape’s impassive face.

“Go on…” she asked, curiosity clear in her voice. He nearly quirked a grin at the hint of a normal Hermione reaction. 

“You shall have to leave the infirmary at some point soon. It is a chance to… come clean, as it were, about your Time Turner issues. Now would be a good time to strike-- you are injured, and their bleeding hearts can hardly stand to hurl abuse at the infirm. You also have your direct action saving the life of Sirius Black to use as leverage, should they try anyway. However, if you wish to keep your secret, I can procure a… trinket for your spell grounding. I can offer my services in casting, given your state. The choice is yours,” he explained, watching her face carefully. She lit up instantly, relaxing with a warm smile on her face. He wanted to capture the look forever.

“I believe I also may know how to discuss the situation with Dumbledore, if you do not wish to divulge your every secret to him as of yet. I cannot say I recommend you put all your eggs in that basket, myself, but that is up to you,” he offered as well, and Hermione sat up fully, her mind whirling as she wondered what he could have come up with.

“I… thank you. I really do want your help,” she finally said, a tiny smile of relief on her face.   
“I cannot make my charm myself, so I need you to make it for me. It is complicated, but I can walk you through it. I need you to grab my journal out of my bag, I assume its back in the dormitory. But I also need an anchoring object, like a necklace or a bracelet. I can give you some money to go grab one for me, it just cannot be a magical object in itself,” Hermione requested, a sheepish look upon her face.

“Very well, Miss Granger. I shall return this evening to go through the spell work with you,” he answered, still unsure of how to approach her after the dark emotional display she had put on earlier that day.

“It’s Hermione, sir. And thank you,” she replied, a soft smile on her lips as she took in his distress. He graced her with a half smile of his own and left the infirmary, knowing he would be doing something useful to help her.

\--

Snape snuck his way up to the Gryffindor dorm, enjoying the rude look of the Fat Lady as she was compelled to open the door for him. With Minerva back at her summer home, Snape was going to enjoy the opportunity to invade Gryffindor Tower. The common room was cozy and warm, even with the absence of students. Snape had never needed to enter it before, and took a moment to look around at the comfortable assortment of furniture, the chess set along the wall, and the tables for studying. With a sniff, he thought the Slytherin dorms were much better, having the magnificent window into Black Lake, with the occasional curious mermaid making faces at students. He continued up to the girl’s dorms, the stairs sturdy under his feet: Being a professor had perks.

The fifth year girls dorm was nearly empty of any sign of residency except for a single bed, the rest reset to blank to await the fall. Hermione’s bed and surroundings were neat and tidy, and Snape knew that was not just due to house elves. She had robes hanging off a hook she’d spelled onto one of the posts of the bed, her bed made a host to one very angry looking ball of orange fluff. Snape eyed the cat who looked up at him and sniffed before carefully stretching and hopping off the bed, but continued to watch him from the doorway.

Remembering his mission, Snape looked around the bed for Hermione’s bag and found it tucked between the bed and her night stand. He lifted it to set on the bed, and opened the flap to find the journal. When he reached in, he nearly fell over. The bag was nearly bottomless, swallowing his arm as he reached without realizing how deep it went. He was impressed by the expansion charm, but annoyed at having to dig around. He managed to grab hold of a slim book and pulled it out to find a book on memory charms, which made him feel uncomfortable. With a quick Accio, he had the journal.

While Snape had never considered himself a voyeur, part of him desperately wanted to pilfer through Hermione’s things. There was something incredibly intimate about seeing her living arrangement, and he touched the drawer of her night stand with trepidation. No one was around to stop him, but he was better than that. With a shake of his head, Snape gripped the journal tighter in his hand and left the tower, heading down the grounds.

Hermione needed an anchor for the spell work. He was sure he could find something on hand that would suit the purpose, at least temporarily. However, the rare impulsive side to him demanded he make the attempt to find her something more permanent in town. The idea horrified him. For one, he did not know at all what style she would favor. For another, it would be a nuisance to explain his absence from the castle for a shopping excursion, nor his purpose should anyone find him buying jewelry. He shook that thought away. He was a smart enough man to find something suitable, and a couple of hours being out of the castle would not be entirely noticeable. He stroud down to the gates, confidence in his step, and apparated as soon as he was off the grounds.

London was busy as he stepped out onto the sidewalk from his unassuming alley, his clothes transfigured to blend in more easily with the crowds. Though he never had much need for jewelry himself, it was fairly easy to find a shop with some shiny trinkets, and as embarrassed and out of place as he felt in the store, he put his mind to finding something suitable. The problem was, everything in that cramped shop was so… sparkly. It was ostentatious and tacky and not at all suitable for Hermione. He doubted the blonde, crimped haired girl behind the counter with the horridly bright pink lipstick would be able to help in that manner.

The next three shops had similar issues. They were too gaudy, or flashy, or simply just wrong. It was not a task he truly wanted to give his all to, but found himself compelled to find something nice for Hermione. It was garishly sentimental and just proved how very well fucked he was. He was in too deep, and yet found himself unwilling to dig himself out quite yet.

He nearly passed the unassuming little jewelry shop as he walked towards another department store. The sign was just a ring, no words, but he paused as he saw the window display, a smirk curling his lips. There in the window was the absolute perfect necklace he had ever seen, and he didn’t care about the price. 

He felt it was a strangely intimate item to give her, but so long as he did not reveal how much effort he put into finding it, it would be acceptable. Besides, it was as if it were made for her. Still, as he climbed the stairs to return to the infirmary, he felt an odd flutter in his chest that what he was doing was more special than he wanted to think. He shoved it away and settled himself before he reached Hermione’s bedside, unsurprised to see her once again sleeping.

Snape took over what he had started to consider his chair, setting her notebook and the necklace box on the table. The noise startled Hermione awake, who instantly had her wand pointed at him even as her eyes remained glazed with sleep. Her vision cleared and she lowered her wand, though she kept it in hand. Snape had to admit he was mildly impressed with her reaction time, even as he merely raised a brow at her. The girl had grace enough to blush as she sat up.

“Sorry, sir,” she said, but offered no reasoning to her actions. He needed none, having the same impulse every time he woke. He only nodded, then indicated his procured items.

“I have finished your grocery trip, Miss Granger, what else do you require of me?” he asked, and did not miss the sad misting of her eyes at his formal address, but she did not mention it. He felt entirely wrong after seeing the deep self loathing expressed. To encourage her affections now felt like taking advantage of a fragile young woman, even though he knew he deeply cared for her.

He handed her the box, feeling a slight nervousness as she opened it. From her expression, she clearly didn’t expect such a nice necklace from him. Her eyes widened and she looked at him in shock, her pink lips parted to form an ‘o’. He found it endearing, then internally sneered at himself for the thought. She lifted the silver chained necklace and studied the small charm on the end, a tiny hourglass with even smaller rose quartz chips inside. The awe slowly bloomed into amusement and delight, and she began to giggle before her laughter increased.

“You-- you ironic bastard!” she chuckled, holding her stomach and wiping away amused tears. Snape smirked unrepentantly as she laughed, glad she noticed quickly the resemblance to the crux of all her woes. When her laughter finally began to quiet, she smiled gratefully.

“It really is lovely, sir. I can’t thank you enough,” she told him, which he just shrugged off. Hermione eyed him a few moments longer, her expression unreadable but warm as she regarded him. He felt himself blush under her gaze, and she finally looked away.

“I’m going to have to have you cast the spell. Madam Pomfrey said that magic used on me should be okay now, but I still can’t cast any complicated magic, probably not until the school year starts. Okay, hand me the notebook so I can find it,” she asked, and Snape obliged, feeling like a lech when their fingers brushed and he savored her slight blush.

Hermione steadfastly ignored the jolt she felt from touching his hand-- the professor couldn’t think so highly of her after her revelation, no matter how dedicated he had been to her bedside during her recovery, nor how lovely of jewelry he provided for the purpose of her secret keeping. Besides, she felt he was only being friendly. Harry was like a brother to her and showed scores more physical affection than a few pats on the hand when she felt down.

“Alright, here it is. It’s a little complicated in the layering, but I’m sure to you it’s no more difficult than an Accio,” she explained, handing the book to Snape so he could see her cramped handwriting on the spell. It was more than she lead him to believe. He thought it merely worked to show the age she set on it, but it was much more than that. There was also a general health glamour to hide any bags under her eyes or paleness from when she stressed herself too much, a small protection spell from hexes and curses likely to be flung in the halls, and an alert for anyone with Notice-Me-Not or disillusionment charms around her. Describing as “a little complex” was the understatement of the century. It was a paranoid spy’s dream. He read over the notes again, then looked up at Hermione, who was eyeing him nervously.

“You developed all of this?” he asked, not bothering to hide the awe in his voice. Hermione nodded, a small motion, and looked away.

“Fred and George helped, even if they don’t know it. They do just as complicated stuff for their joke products, and I’ve been talking with them through all their research until they left. Getting the incantations right was pretty difficult, though,” she said, shrugging and wincing at the motion. Snape could only stare at her incredulously. The glamour necklace could easily grant her a mastery of charms for its invention, but she was denying it was anything grand.

“Miss Granger, this is one of the best applications of magic I’ve ever seen. To think that you’ve managed its creation nearly on your own, and still in school, is nothing short of incredible, and you would be a fool to believe otherwise. This very notebook is most impressive. You are anything but a fool, so do not force modesty to be one,” he said sternly, and she looked at him with a startled expression. Her instinct was to deny his compliment, but she did not want to continue to force modesty, as he said. Unable to openly accept it either, Hermione could only nod and turn her gaze down to the necklace he’d picked, so she picked it up.

“This is very nice… I can pay you back, sir. You didn’t let me give you money before,” she said, and it was Snape’s turn to shrug off questions.

“That will not be necessary, I assure you,” he said, then lifted up the necklace from its box and twirled a finger. She obligingly turned around, moving her hair to expose the back of her neck. Severus placed the delicate chain around her throat and clasped the chain, letting his fingers brush the back of her neck as he did. Her heartbeat quickened as he touched her, and she took a calming breath. He did the same and began the spell, moving his wand in intricate patterns as he chanted the incantations to weave magic into the silver necklace, his magic within her coming to meet him and braiding it together. It was an odd and abstract feeling, feeling his own magic outside of himself. The spell finally ended and he slumped back into his chair, exhausted from the effort, and eyed Hermione.

She closed her eyes in concentration as she mentally catalogued all the feelings that the layers of the spell were supposed to create, before she seemed to deem it acceptable and looked at him. She once again seemed to be sixteen, more vitalized than before. All signs that she had been crying disappeared, and her cheeks had filled out more.

“Thank you, sir. Madame Pomfrey told me I’m being discharged in a couple of days, so this is right on time,” she said, and he nodded shortly. 

“Yes, I shall be escorting you to Headquarters. Enjoy your last nights of solitude. While I’m sure you miss your friends, you will miss this quiet even more after five minutes,” he advised, smirking as she swatted at him in mock offense.

“Actually, you’re probably right. I’m going to enjoy this bed, too. They’re terribly firm, but not nearly as lumpy as the ones at Headquarters. I’ve tried to transfigure them better, but they’re stubborn,” she admitted, causing Snape to actually bark out a laugh. She was startled, but grinned at his open amusement. Neither of them seemed to notice that they had gravitated closer towards each other, or else didn’t care. Severus sobered quickly, letting out a sight that he had to reel back the lighthearted mood they had slipped into.

“The first step is complete. Now, to discuss the Headmaster,” he stated, and Hermione nodded, amusement still clear on he face even as she grew more serious. Together, the two spoke in quiet tones, hunched over together in conversation. A few hours passed, but by the end they had a solid plan in place for dealing with Dumbledore, as well as keeping the rest of the Order from learning of her magical sensitivity.

When Madame Pomfrey approached to get Hermione’s dinner order, Severus stood and took his leave. His bid Hermione to rest well: the next day would mean toeing the line of believability and secrecy with the Headmaster.


	18. Chapter 18

“We need to speak, Albus,” Snape announced as he opened the door to Dumbledore’s office. He found the old wizard sitting at his desk, drinking tea as he read. Dumbledore smiled genially up at him and gestured to the chairs opposite his desk, but Snape stood by the fire instead.

“I believe it is time you approach Miss Granger to actually ask her what happened, as opposed to waiting for her to feel guilty enough to talk to you,” Snape advised, staring at the fire but enjoying the slight motion in the corner of his eye as Dumbledore twitched with surprise.

“I’m sure you would know, Severus, considering the time you’ve spent in her company,” Dumbledore said, eyebrow raised. It wasn’t even a masked insinuation, and Snape sighed. The old man was losing his touch and fast. Still, it irked him that the headmaster could still be very correct. Not that he would admit it.

“As I have designed the recovery potions she needs, it is only natural that I observe the effects for future needs. After all, I have not had any opportunity to counter Dolohov’s curse before,” Snape hissed in return, all his ire coming to the Headmaster’s comment. It was uncalled for, and the old goat knew it.

“Very well, let’s go down to the Hospital Wing, then. I’d like to get at least one side of the story,” Dumbledore said, brushing off Snape’s biting tone with years of practice. He swept from his office, pace purposeful but still slow enough to be infuriating to the younger wizard escorting him unwillingly. Snape was grateful Dumbledore did not choose to try to rope him into asinine small talk on the way to the infirmary, at the very least. 

The two entered the infirmary to find Hermione sitting up with a book in hand, looking up at the door with a guarded expression. Severus was glad that they had replaced and adjusted her glamour, as she had not looked nearly so well the day before, when her eyes had been red rimmed and dark and her form too gaunt to be healthy. He shook the thought away. She still looked like a patient, however-- enough to attempt to elicit some sympathy from the Headmaster.

“Good afternoon, Miss Granger. How are you faring?” Dumbledore asked kindly, as if he hadn’t avoided visiting her for the past couple of weeks. For her part, Hermione kept her annoyance off her face, maintaining her impassive look with a nod of her head.

“I’m healing. How can I help you, Professor?” she asked, sounding suspicious. She glanced at Snape as she blinked, a very subtle move, but he gave nothing away.

“Of course. I’m sure he had already mentioned it to you, but Severus felt inclined to notify me of your extra potion classes, but I am also aware that is not all to the story. Is there anything else you wish to tell me?” Dumbledore ventured, and Hermione looked fearful for a moment before she sat up straighter, jaw clenched with resolve. Despite his concern, Severus thought the afternoon light on her soft brown hair made her look akin to Athena leading a war. He could have slapped himself for so sappy a thought. It was becoming alarming how quickly thoughts of her broke through his barriers to barrage him with feeling. He clamped down again and focused on the seriousness of her words.

“Yes, sir. I suppose I do. Professor Snape told me you were concerned about my secret keeping. I only hope that you can understand my reasoning, and not turn me in,” she said, voice calm and strong as she spoke, refusing to show how deeply afraid she was of the conversation. The Headmaster raised a brow at her, clearly surprised that it would be something so serious, and settled into a summoned chair at her side. 

Snape remained standing, watching Hermione as her expression flickered minutely at certain parts of the story, moments he was sure Dumbledore was trying to see into her mind further for. He was relieved that she did not mention the close friendship they had built, or, Gods forbid, her own feelings. Instead, she focused on her pre-apprenticeship with Snape, knowing that Dumbledore was heavily interested in how that friendship began. Hermione lied blatantly to the Headmaster, telling him that she initially sought Snape’s help regarding her research into the first war, as he was an entirely new side to the narrative. While it wasn’t entire untrue, she definitely never sought him out willingly from the onset.

From there, she discussed how Snape demanded work in return for his information, and how she developed a budding interest in potion development through the exchange. She spoke of how her and Snape had started to talk about more than the war, becoming something closer to colleagues. Dumbledore had far more patience than Snape would have pegged him for, and he hit a snort when the older wizard finally raised a hand to stop Hermione’s long winded and mostly fabricated recount of budding friendship as she discovered Snape coming back injured from a supposed Death Eater meeting. While she had helped him with injury, and he had come back to Hogwarts injured from Death Eater meetings, there had been no conjunction.

“Miss Granger, I am not upset that you have befriended my dear Severus. Merlin knows, he deserves more kindness than this world provides,” Dumbledore interrupted, smiling genially even as Snape frowned at the belittling comment. He was not a child that needed schoolyard friends. “However, you have not outlined anything illegal, nor answered the true matter at hand. What of your parents, child?”

Snape’s eyes darted to her face, to find her shield fading for a moment. She looked at him, locking eyes, and he could see her depression and shame reflecting back at him before she darted her vision to her hands once more. She steeled herself and took a deep breath, but could not look at either of them for her next bit of explanation.

“I… I no longer have parents. I’ve wiped their memories of everything to do with me, with magic, and given them new identities. They have relocated under different names, sold the house and practice, and have never had a child before,” she admitted in a hushed whisper, so quiet that Snape nearly missed it. 

Professor Dumbledore blinked, frozen by the confession, and Hermione waited anxiously for his next words.

“Miss Granger, that is quite serious. I understand fearing for their safety, but why did you not first approach the Order?” Dumbledore asked, and was not ready for the vicious look Hermione rounded on him, the first she had ever issued him.

“Has the Order been able to protect the witches and wizards that have been going missing lately? You can’t expect me to believe you would spare much effort towards some Muggles when you can’t save anyone who could be a proper soldier. Can you honestly look me in the eye and tell me they would have been as safe as what I’ve done? That they may not have been necessary casualties in this war, pieces that could be abandoned in favor of more important ones? Sir, I have studied everything I can on the previous war. I have first hand accounts of multiple people from the first Order, and there is not one scrap of evidence that suggests you would have spared a second thought to protecting them more than moving them once and hoping Vold--er, the Dark Lord would forget about some worthless Muggles,” she ranted, changing her phrasing at Severus’s dark look of warning.

She waited a moment, but Dumbledore had no words after being so thoroughly taken to task. Snape would have enjoyed his suffering, but guilt plagued him. Hermione was dreadfully correct-- had the Order moved her parents, Dumbledore may have seen them on the list of ‘necessary risks.’ Families not important enough for the Order’s full protection, but ones that Snape could drop the location of, if pressed by Voldemort, and hope they would be able to set up a good enough support before an attack could be launched. It had happened before, and likely would again. He grew cold when he realized that with the Headmaster having no awareness of his closeness to Hermione, he could have very well ordered Snape to lead them to their deaths. Hermione shook her head slightly when the Headmaster did not answer her, then turned away.

“This has been tiring. If you wish to speak more on it, come back later,” she said in clear dismissal, and it took a moment for Dumbledore to rise, thoroughly shaken by the events. Snape followed him back to his office at his asking, biting back a smirk at the old man’s back as they retreated. 

Dumbledore, it seemed, was not at all reassured by the conversation, if his quick steps and jerking motions as he made tea were anything to go by. 

“I still have questions, Severus,” he said, more a demand than asking. Severus took his seat in front of the desk, stretching out his long legs and watching as Dumbledore paced his office under the guise of making tea.

“I may have answers, if you ask,” he quipped, earning himself another glare.

“Miss Granger should not have been able to cast that magic on her parents, she’s underage,” Dumbledore started with, an observation he knew the old man would have right away. Still, his wording was flawed enough that Severus smirked and tilted his head, teasing and amused.

“That is not a question, Albus,” he tutted, and Dumbledore gave him a harsh look of warning. Severus only blinked in response, unafraid of the old man’s wrath for the moment. He was worked up, but never lashed out at Severus physically, unlike his other master. And he was well prepared for the emotional damage the Headmaster would lay on him for his amusement.

“You know damn well what I mean, Severus!” Dumbledore snapped, finishing his pacing and sitting at his desk. He took a deep sip of his tea, chamomile by the smell in the air, and Severus sat up, leveling an annoyed look his way.

“You of all people should know that. You and her Head of House helped her get that Time Turner, so she could double her days. She gained months for that, and was already the eldest in her class. She turned seventeen over the holidays, she told me. Took care of her parents right away, first chance she got,” he explained, and Dumbledore glowered.

“You should have told me, Severus!” Dumbledore grumbled from his desk, holding a tea cup and wagging a long and boney finger furiously. Snape gave him a nasty and unrepentant smile. He didn’t think he would ever stop being amused at Dumbledore’s shock. He delighted in seeing that damned twinkle gone, replaced by a sharp anger. The doddy old man persona he put up grated on Snape’s nerves-- the man was meant to be a war general, not a demented grandfather!

“Perhaps. It was not my place to tell you. My position has not been threatened. The girl knows how to Occlude, as I am sure you’ve noticed. Her secrets were not relevant to your plans or the Dark Lord, why should I have reported it to you?” Snape asked, sneering. Dumbledore took on a thunderous expression.

“I know you are amused, Severus, however that is beside the point. Miss Granger has hidden away Obliviating her own parents, and that her age is months ahead of what it should be. Who knows what other secrets she may still hide? It is imperative that you find out what all she may be hiding. To think that she did not tell even Harry or Minerva is astounding. I do not understand why she confided in you,” Dumbledore spoke, tone nastier than Severus was used to hearing. Snape smiled mysteriously, his eyes cold as he stood.

“No, I suppose you never would understand that,” he hissed, leaving before the Headmaster could give a proper reply. Snape’s enjoyment had ended, his buttons properly pushed. For all that Dumbledore pressed for the greater good, preaching love and understanding as the way to defeat evil, the old fool never could see past his own prejudice. 

Why had Hermione confided in Snape, indeed. It was not as if he were a double agent, having to carefully hide aspects of his actions from those he cared about. As if he hadn’t broken the law on many occasions, relying on the mercy of the Order to keep him from prison. Working in the shadows to protect a Potter who did not deserve the protection, and a damn redhead as well. He could have cried from the irony of the situation, but Dumbledore was too daft to see it.

His loss all the more, then.


	19. Chapter 19

Snape arrived exactly at ten the next morning, formal and closed off in front of Pomfrey, who was still laying into Hermione her potion routine. Hermione, for her part, was nodding along respectfully, but looked up at Snape with palpable relief.

He took her trunk and shrunk it to fit in his pocket before walking her down the grounds, her hand on his arm for stability during the long walk. He enjoyed the warmth of her small hand, suppressing a smile at the luxurious and inappropriate feeling. Though they could have flooed, Hermione wanted the time to stretch her legs after so long in the infirmary. Neither had cause to speak during their walk, both preoccupied with their own worries and fears concerning those at the Headquarters.

Hermione stepped into Snape's arms after they cleared the gate, only slightly winded and very red, and Snape held her gently with one arm and disapparated them. They arrived in London and Hermione wobbled, causing Snape to wrap his arms around her tighter. She felt her heart leap at the sensation, but reminded herself that he was transporting an injured person, and her health was the cause before any feelings on his part. The rough landing irritated her scar, and she rubbed at her chest as it itched angrily, but nothing truly hurt. 

“Miss Granger?” Snape asked, and she gave him a quirk of a smile.

“It's fine. Just… itchy,” she said, and he nodded once and looked up to the Headquarters as it began to appear. He heard Hermione take a deep breath, then he opened the door, shielding her from the immediate barrage of her friends.

“Hermio-- oh, Professor!” Ginny stopped her dead run for her friend and slid a little on the wood floors while Snape merely raised a brow, fighting a full laugh as Harry and Ron crashed into her and they fell in a heap at his feet.

“Really,” came Hermione’s exasperated sigh, though she made no move to leave the safety from behind his arm, held out to protect her.

“Do cease your attempts at such… violent affection. Miss Granger is still in recovery,” Snape advised, peering down his nose at Harry and Ron in particular. Hermione stepped away then and offered Ginny, the first to her feet, a side hug.

“Thank you, professor,” she said to Snape, eyes twinkling with amusement even as he sneered at her friends. He merely grunted in response and dropped her tiny trunk into her hand before side stepping all of them and continuing into the house. The teens all stared after him for a moment, Hermione’s thoughts doubtlessly different from those of her friends, before Ron broke the silence.

“What’s going on with you two?” he asked in a hushed whisper, and Hermione looked at him, bewildered.

“What do you mean?” she asked, trying to sound genuinely confused. Ron only raised a brow as he stared at her, and Harry and Ginny were watching the exchange with a great deal of interest. Hermione finally sighed and grabbed their arms and went to an unused study with them.

“Nothing is happening, Ron. I should think you would know me better than that. However, Professor Snape has been so kind as to monitor my condition and has been in the infirmary a lot. Did you know he developed the counter-curse for what I was hit with? Well, he’s never got to use it on a… living victim, so I was a bit of a test subject there,” Hermione explained, shivering as she recalled his explanation of that and the very palpable fear she had of being so very near death. Harry paled and sat on a dusty couch.

“God, Hermione, I’m so sorry! I should have listened to you and never gone to the Ministry--” Harry began, but was cut off by Hermione.

“Harry Potter, you stop that right now. Yes, you absolutely should have listened to me, but this was always an eventuality. I could very well have waited, or knocked you out, or done something else to prevent you from taking us to the Ministry. But a lot of good still came of it-- now Voldemort has to reveal his presence earlier than anticipated, and a lot of his Death Eaters were arrested. My injury is nothing compared to that victory,” she went off. Harry continued to look down at his feet, but nodded sullenly.

“Really, Harry, I’ll be okay. By the time summer ends, I should be better than ever,” she reassured him, and finally he gave her a watery smile. Ginny squeezed her hand as she sat by Harry, and Hermione looked again at Ron, who was not swayed by the distraction of Harry’s guilt.

“Even so, he seems extra nice to you. He didn’t even let you get bowled over! Besides… I saw him hold your hand in the hospital wing,” he admitted, and that did genuinely surprise Hermione, who had been only half conscious for a couple of hours when Ron shared the infirmary with her. She didn’t recall any contact with Snape beyond his putting her back in bed, and only vaguely his reassurances about the battle. In fact, he’d had to repeat it the next day when she asked again about Sirius Black.

“What are you talking about? I think he’s only been polite to me because I’ve been polite to him. None of you have ever given him any amount of courtesy. Besides, of course he would keep you lot from knocking me down, I’m still in recovery!” Hermione defended, feeling off footed with Ron knowing something she didn’t. Ginny blinked at her and tilted her head to the side, brown eyes squinting.

“I believe Hermione. Ron, you must have just imagined something. Those first couple of days were rough, for you and Hermione especially. Besides, even if he did hold her hand, wasn’t Hermione his apprentice for most of the school year? She almost died, Ron. I think even a great bat like him would feel regret or fear after that. He is human, after all,” she said gently, holding onto Harry’s hand as he tensed. Ron deflated, his mouth flat. But he didn’t push the issue, and let Ginny run interference and start catching Hermione up on what she had missed, pulling a still guilt ridden Harry into the conversation.

Hermione was extremely grateful, even as she saw Ginny turning uncannily into her mother. She allowed herself to be pulled into the conversation, to feel like a normal teen again for a little while. It was nice, especially after the disaster of a school year. For a moment, she could actually relax. Her body relaxed from its rigid tension and it was nice to feel calm.

That night, after she readied herself for bed, Hermione heard a knock at her door. She opened it, mildly wary, and found Ginny on the other side. The redhead immediately entered and plopped down on Hermione’s bed without ceremony, looking at Hermione with an intense amount of scrutiny.

“What’s actually going on with you and Snape?” she asked bluntly, and Hermione sighed. Of course.

“I already told you lot earlier…” she tried, but Ginny shook her head and crossed her arms.

“I went with it earlier because you obviously don’t want the boys to know, which is fair, but you wont pull it over on me. You actually like him, don’t you?” Ginny asked, getting to the heart of the matter with a dizzying quickness. Hermione sat at her desk, startled. Her first instinct was to deny, to lie and send up red herrings and do anything but actually answer the question. She hated how that line of thought was her first. Instead, she let herself blush and nodded.

“I… I actually do. It’s probably extremely annoying to him, as I’m sure he’s realized by now. But… he does treat me differently, when I’m helping with potions. He actually treats me like I’m competent, will ask me questions and debate the answers. He’s not overly kind or full of praise, but he’s nowhere near as insulting. It’s been nice having someone I can connect with on an intellectual level. Not that you guys aren’t also brilliant in your own ways, but when I want to be esoteric you all run screaming,” she explained, letting herself actually feel like a schoolgirl in love, which she supposed she was. 

Ginny, bless her, only nodded with a knowing smile. Hermione still felt extremely uncomfortable about it, but it was nice to open up to someone who wasn’t her professor. Not that what she said was the entire truth, either. She also knew she could trust Snape wholeheartedly, not only with her secrets, but to do whatever it would take to win the war. He had the same dedication and drive that she did, an intensity of devotion that would destroy themselves to save everyone else. She didn’t think Ginny would understand that without her explaining her time-turner use, however.

“It may be completely wrong of me to say, but I can actually see it. The two of you together could probably win the war singlehandedly by sheer intelligence and willpower alone. It’s terrifying, really, but I think it would be good just the same,” Ginny replied, grinning wide at her friend before the two collapsed into a fit of giggles. Sobering eventually, Ginny cocked her head again to look at Hermione.

“You know, I think he might like you too. I don’t mean in a gross way, like he’d take advantage or something. But he respects you way more than anyone else I’ve seen outside of perhaps the other professors, or Dumbledore,” she said thoughtfully, and Hermione shrugged. Of course, her friend couldn’t know that Hermione was actually now too old for Hogwarts, technically. Or that she had already crossed a line herself. Still, it heartened her to hear.

A knock sounded at the door, and Hermione opened it to admit Harry and Ron, now with Luna and Neville. They weren’t going to stay the whole summer, they explained, but given how the end of the year went, it was decided to bring them into the fold of the Order of the Phoenix. 

Neville was supremely proud to be a member of the same group that his parents fought for. Hermione understood that, and was also quite amused to see Ron sappily following Neville around everywhere like a love sick puppy. She was also glad that the distraction of the reunited couples took a lot of the attention off of her.

After a couple of days, Hermione returned to her largely unnoticed bookworm status which suited her just fine. She managed to slip into the library, avoiding the lovestruck teens she called her friends. She adored them all, really, but it was getting to be a little much with the cramped confines of the Headquarters closing in. What was worse, Hermione had not seen Snape since he’d dropped her off initially. She knew where he was likely to be, and it made her worried at his absence. Thus, she took to reading to distract herself from wondering if he was too injured to help himself, and too prideful to seek it out.

Hermione was startled when someone sat on the worn loveseat next to her, nearly sitting on her feet where she had curled up. She looked up to see Sirius sitting there, hands clasped in his lap. and turned to face her with a gentle smile. She made note of her page and set down her book, feeling wary of his presence.

“Hello, Sirius. How are you?” she asked, more than a little confused that he hadn’t simply spoken to her. For all that she fell into her books, she would hear her own name being said. It made it sadly easy to find out who was comfortable talking about her directly in front of her.

“I’m doing very well, love. In thanks to you, really. I haven’t gotten to actually thank you for saving me in the Ministry,” he said softly, in a tone much more serious than she was expecting of the wild older man. She shrugged, shifting her legs more under herself to give herself space from the heat running off him.

“I don’t need thanks, Sirius. I would have done the same for anyone,” she deflected, not looking at him as she did. She had anticipated Sirius thanking her, but realized she was not at all comfortable with it. She wasn’t comfortable receiving praise for participating in a war. He laughed a little at her reluctant reply, then slipped into a sigh.

“It’s a shame a beauty like you had to be scarred over an old dog like me,” Sirius said, either not noticing or not caring about Hermione’s discomfort. He smirked regardless, running his fingers along his stubbled jaw. “Still, I’d like to show you how grateful I am.”

“I think you’ve shown enough, Mutt,” came the sneering voice of Severus Snape. He stood in the doorway, a fierce snarl on his face as he took in Hermione backing away from a smirking Sirius Black. The animagus sneered in return, standing and going to Hermione’s side to sling an arm around her shoulders, but she slipped away and crossed to stand behind her professor, not the least bit ashamed at accepting his help. Snape didn’t look at her as she did, too focused on staring down his childhood enemy. Sirius, however, looked at Hermione with betrayed confusion.

“What’s the matter, Snivellus? Hermione and I were having a discussion, weren’t we love?” Sirius asked, smiling at Hermione even as she hid further behind Snape. Out of sight of Sirius, she gently touched is back in thanks. He nodded minutely and stepped to shield her completely.

“Most people don’t run from discussions, but then again, any girl would go running from a dog like you. Come, Miss Granger. I wished to speak with you regarding continuing your pre-apprenticeship,” Snape said, tone harsh until he spoke to Hermione, and even then it was a careful neutrality. Sirius watched them go with a deep frown.

“Thank you so much, sir. I didn’t know what to do, it was so unsettling,” Hermione whispered after leaving the library, but Snape didn’t speak as he led her from the library containing Sirius down a flight and to one of the smaller, and less used, parlor rooms. Only once there did his face relax into concern instead of anger. He turned to address Hermione and almost looked like he was going to grab her shoulders but held off, holding his hands behind his back instead.

“How long has he been coming onto you, Miss Granger?” he asked, voice calm. Hermione wrapped her arms around herself and shrugged, trying to consider his question.

“Today was the first time he was so… overt. At Christmas, I had him help me with the journals. He rather thought I was taken with Harry at the time, but he still seemed a little flirty. I think he’s realized by now that Harry is dating Ginny and Luna, so maybe he thinks I’m feeling put out,” she explained. ‘And might put out,’ she thought to herself, unable to help quirking a grin at her terrible pun. Snape pressed his lips together in a fair impression of McGonagall.

“That is more information about Potter than I ever needed to know. Does he not have enough on hand that he should add two lovers to the mix?!” he sighed, clearly annoyed. Hermione shrugged, grinning unrepentantly.

“It’s rather sweet. You know Ron and Neville are dating now, too? That’s why I’ve considered stopping sitting next to Neville, Ron keeps making eyes and it’s getting on my nerves,” she said, and Snape slumped into the nearest chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. Really, the love lives of his students didn’t concern him in the least. But still, he’d need to pay more attention to the redheaded menace and the nearly Chosen One more in class moving forward-- lest they destroy the whole school. Still, talking about it seemed to have calmed Hermione, or at least amused her, and she relaxed and took the chair opposite him.

“I hadn’t ever considered him to be so predatory before. When he creeped me out a bit at Christmas, I figured he was just having a bit of fun because he’s been trapped here. He didn’t even do anything truly bad, today. He didn’t touch me til you came in. Still, I just get a weird feeling with him,” she said, a frown on her face as she returned to the original topic. Snape studied her as she contemplated.

“From here forward, do be careful around him. I fear his second round of imprisonment has done little to correct the ills from the first time around. He may be… unstable, from his isolation, and desperate. Do not allow yourself to be alone with him again,” he advised. Hermione nodded, thinking much along the same lines.

“Now, Miss Granger. I was honest when I said I wished to discuss your pre-apprenticeship. Though it is much earlier than normal, I would like to offer you a true apprenticeship. This will, of course, be done in secret due to the… certain eyes upon me. And should it begin to interfere at all with your school work, it shall be called off. Not that I have any doubts about you,” he continued.

Hermione sat, surprised, across from her mentor. An apprenticeship would be a great opportunity for her, especially considering the uncertain state of the world. It would be incredible to study under Snape, who she knew was one of the few Potion Masters in England who was not completely dark. The secrecy behind it would be a sad necessity, and it still came as a great risk to the both of them. For him to even consider it really told her a lot about how he felt about her capabilities. After her careful consideration, she nodded to herself.

“I would like to accept, sir, provided we can work out the details to mutual agreement,” she said, earning a smirk from her professor. It was not an opportunity she wanted to give up, but she would be foolish to accept outright without negotiations. She was smart for a Gryffindor. 

“We can discuss that closer to term. I won’t keep you long today. I’ve no doubt Black has already smeared my name among your friends for my theft of his target,” Snape replied, and Hermione couldn’t stop the disappointment that clenched her heart in her chest. Snape looked at her with a raised brow, and she realized she had let it show on her face. Hermione forced herself to smile instead.

“Well, I’ll always be sure to correct them, sir. Stay well,” she told him then slipped out of the room. Snape stared at the door she left through with a contemplative expression. Honestly, the girl would be the death of him. 

Dumbledore had suggested the full apprenticeship, and Snape was quick to snap it up. Any excuse to spend more time with the woman who had so thoroughly captured his attention was a good excuse. Still, it was extremely risky and he could not help but worry about the ramifications should their closeness become known by anyone. As much as he loathed the Death Eaters, he could not survive even a whiff of them suspecting his loyalty. 

But even worse, he could not risk her being a target. Be it to punish him, as a ‘reward’ or as a means to control him, there would be a sizeable bounty out for Hermione should it reach the Dark Lord that he had any regard for her. Snape could never let that happen. While he was at the Headquarters that summer, he would bask in her regard as often as he could let himself. Once the school year started, however, he would be back to his cold and ruthless ways in the presence of anyone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so I sat at this part for a while. I really am not trying to set Sirius up to be a villain-- what I'm aiming for is to show a guy who has been isolated for a long time and did not really get to mature as he should have. He's not a bad guy, just a little misguided. He wouldn't actually try anything on Hermione, and this will be addressed more later.


	20. Chapter 20

“Hermione, might I talk to you?” 

Hermione looked up from her book (a fascinating tome about transfiguration and potions) to see a sheepish and concerned Remus Lupin standing nearby. He had new scratches on his face, unsurprising considering he had been out dealing with other werewolves. Hermione patted the seat next to her on her favorite couch, tucking her legs further underneath her and giving Lupin a gentle smile. 

She’d always liked the werewolf, feeling very strongly that the discrimination he’d faced was entirely unfair. He was a model professor, and truthfully, that Snape had outed him was the biggest flaw of the man she was beginning to fall for. The memory of it caused her shame for her own feelings, but Lupin looked like he had something important to say, so she shoved it away.

“Yes, Remus?” she asked, eyeing him over. He sat fairly stiffly, and though he was trying to maintain a friendly smile, there was something about the tightness of his eyes that set her on edge. He had a serious concern, she realized, one he felt would be confrontational. Hermione’s curiosity threatened to overflow, but he did not leave her in the dark for long.

“I’m… I’m concerned for you, Hermione. I know we aren’t very close but I’d like to talk with you. I’ve heard that Professor Snape may have made some, well, advances, towards you. If he has, you have my word that I will handle the situation,” he said, very grave. Hermione stared at him for a long moment, shocked at the words that came out of his mouth. Struggling to keep herself calm, she took a deep breath and sighed.

“And who was laying out those concerns?” she asked, noting his confusion that she did not immediately admit to it or deny it.

“Er, Sirius said that when he was thanking you for the Ministry incident, Snape came in and implied he was encroaching on his claim, so to speak,” Lupin explained, and Hermione scoffed. She crossed her arms over her chest and scowled.

“Actually, it’s nearly the opposite. Sirius was making me feel uncomfortable with how he was acting towards me and Professor Snape stepped in by chance and came to my defense. Granted, he was quite goading against Sirius, but he never implied anything untowards. We just discussed my becoming an apprentice,” she explained through angrily gritted teeth. Lupin’s eyes widened and his brows raised at that statement, and he seemed at a loss for words while Hermione quickly worked to calm herself down.

“I see…” he finally mumbled, and Hermione sighed before relaxing her stiff posture and turning to who had once been a favored professor. She pitied him, somewhat, for his friendship with Sirius and her contradicting him. She was sure many didn’t bother to do so, given Sirius’s situation and a sense of pity for the once vivacious man.

“I don’t think he means any harm, but… it would help me greatly if you could speak to him about how he approaches me. I don’t want him to treat me any differently than you or Harry-- it feels sometimes like he’s singling me out as a single woman when I’m not comfortable with that,” she asked, hoping that by putting trust in Remus he would feel better about the situation and his friend. 

Despite him making her uncomfortable, Hermione didn’t fully dislike Sirius. He was still very important to Harry, and had once been a keen fighter for the cause. However, that did not for one second make her willing to look over any transgressions he would make, and he was on a dangerous edge of becoming a predator. Hermione would not stand to see it happen if it could be helped. Lupin seemed to feel similarly, because he gave a serious nod of his head before excusing himself, likely going to seek out Sirius.

Hermione sighed and tilted her head back on the couch as he left, closing her eyes for a moment to push down the feeling of righteous anger and unease. She was not surprised to hear a knock just a moment later. Getting to relax and be alone was not common in the Headquarters, which had a fluctuation of ten or more people in it at any given time. She looked up to see Harry standing in the doorway, and she smiled at her friend. It faltered when the look he gave her remained serious, but he still came over to join her on the couch.

“I heard you and Remus talking,” he admitted quickly, and Hermione blinked at him, unsure of where he was going. Harry also looked unsure, but his brows furrowed in determination and he took in a deep breath before looking at her with his startling green eyes.

“Has Sirius…? I mean, you would tell me if something happened, right? I know he’s my family but,” Harry started but faltered, clearly unsure of what to say. Hermione gave him a tight smile and gripped his hand, grateful for his compassion. He gulped and looked up at her, looking a little fearful about what she could say. Hermione knew he held Sirius in high regard, and had no wish to destroy their relationship. Harry needed to learn to trust adults, and even if she personally distrusted Sirius, he was a good start to get him to trust others.

“Nothing really happened, Harry. He was really just too flirty for my taste, but I don’t really think he would do anything to me, or anyone here. I’m sure being trapped here all the time isn’t helping. Maybe he’s just lonely. Remus will talk with him, it’s going to be fine,” she explained, partially wondering if she was just trying to convince herself or not. Harry looked at once relieved and uneasy, but nodded slowly. He smiled sheepishly.

“Well, tell me about your apprenticeship then. Are you the youngest ever?” he asked, slightly desperate to put the uncomfortable conversation behind them. Hermione saw right through it and smiled affectionately. This was the Harry that she loved so much as a brother. Compassionate and kind but still awkward. He cared deeply about his friends, and no matter if Snape didn’t see it, Hermione knew Harry was good to the core.

“Well, not the youngest ever. They did used to do these things much earlier. But it is earlier than usual. We still need to build a contract and discuss what will be included, but I’m quite excited,” she explained, happy to see Harry happy for her. 

He asked her further questions, though half were not relevant, and Hermione gladly handled them before edging him into other territories. It was comfortable and familiar to just chat with the black haired boy, and soon the other teens joined them, trickling in one by one as their heard the voices and laughter of their friends.

Hermione was glad that no one else had heard about her issues with Sirius, which kept the conversation light and fun. 

Eventually the teens all gathered in the kitchen for lunch, and Molly bustled about preparing soup and sandwiches for not only the kids, but also the adult members of the Order who were occupying the house. Hermione was quick to tally up the meals and make guesses at who was there. Besides herself, Harry, Ron, Luna, Neville, and Ginny, she knew the twins had been flitting in and out. Sirius, of course, lived there, and recently Remus had become an almost permanent resident. Molly and Arthur stayed there as well, but there was an extra plate Hermione couldn’t account for with who she had seen recently in the house.

As if on cue, Severus Snape entered the room silently and quickly. Hermione watched as Molly began instantly to fuss over him, but he quieted her with some whispered words and left the kitchen just as quickly. He glanced at Hermione only the once, but even that effort made her feel happier than she already had. 

“Children, stay here and eat your lunch. If you finish before I come back down, just go clean the attic,” Molly instructed before taking off out of the room. A hush fell over the teens before they all, collectively, leaned together to discuss what could have possibly been going on. Clearly, there was a secret meeting going on. And, just as clearly, the youngest members of the Order were once again offended to be left out of the proceedings. Hermione, especially, itched to be included as she was technically well above age. She conveniently did not think about how it was her own fault for keeping it a secret.

Of course, being the most troublesome group of students to exist since the Marauders, the group of teens set about quickly eating their lunch and rushing to try to eavesdrop on the parlor, where meetings happened when the kitchen was unavailable or the meeting was small. Fred and George, bless them, had given Harry and their siblings all improved Extendable Ears, which were even stronger and better at hearing through wards and silencing spells. These Ears were, of course, not on the market.

While Harry and Ginny laid out on either side of the door, fiddling with the ears and trying to get a semblance of sound from the door, Hermione hid herself up the stairs and in the shadows of the alcove just over the parlor. Once she was appropriately hidden, smirking at her obvious and oblivious friends, she set about thinking about the feisty twins.

Since school had ended and Hermione had returned to the Headquarters, she hadn’t seen head or tail of Fred Weasley. He’d been to the Headquarters just before she arrived, and she knew he came around occasionally, never for long, but she hadn’t managed to be in the same room as him yet. Part of her wondered if he was avoiding her, and that part was offended. She missed the genius and his friendship. 

The door opened suddenly, causing Ginny to yelp, and Snape stepped on the Ears with a sneer. He didn’t look back at the poorly hidden Ron, Luna, or Neville, but went directly for the front door. Hermione frowned. As her friends scrambled, she stood and went after Snape. Something about his expression caused her concern. 

He had nearly made it to the front door when she reached out and touched his arm. She wasn’t quite close enough to grab him, but he turned and had his wand in her face quicker than she could react. His eyes widened a fraction before they squeezed shut, and he let out a sigh. His wand lowered a fraction, but not completely.

“Foolish girl,” he whispered without any malice and he left, leaving Hermione standing in the foyer feeling worried and discontent. Even the small hint of affection in his words did nothing to ease the feeling. She frowned at the door before turning and heading back to find her friends. Luna and Ginny both gave her knowing looks, but the boys had been distracted when Dumbledore had left the room. Molly had summoned him for Snape, and it seemed the meeting was extremely secretive since the ears had picked up nothing.

“Anything?” she asked, and Harry shook his head, then eyed her suspiciously.

“No, but why did you follow Snape? He must have been bloody pissed to have caught us out there,” Ron asked, and Hermione stiffened as all eyes fell on her. She had acted without thinking, foolishly, and she cursed herself for it. She shrugged and took a seat near Ginny, who was fighting back a teasing grin.

“I’ve been needing to speak with him. I was hoping since it was a short meeting he wouldn’t be too angry but he left before I could catch up to him,” she said. It was an honest enough reply, but Ron continued to glare at her. With a sigh, she continued.

“He’s offered me an apprenticeship, Ronald. We have yet to lay out the details of it, and the summer will be over before we know it. Speaking of which, have you finished your assignments?” she asked, knowing that mentioning academics was the quickest way to get his suspicion off of her. He groaned and his ears went pink, a clear sign that he hadn’t finished anything. Hermione raised a brow and smiled, a little cold.

“Congratulations, Hermione. I’m glad your brightness is being recognized,” Luna replied, smiling warmly. Hermione smiled in return, while the rest of her friends also congratulated her. She only accepted it briefly before turning back to Ron with her bossiest face.

“Yes, well, if I’m to be an apprentice, I expect my friends to be exemplary in their work. Harry, Ron, Neville, we’re entering our second to last year. These class results will be important for our N.E.W.T.S as well as potential careers. Harry, I know you and Ron want to become Aurors. Your Potions work will be just as important as Defense against the Dark Arts. I’ll tutor you the best I can, but from here on out I won’t do a line of either of your homework. I won’t be doing any editing for you either. There won’t be enough time or energy on my end. Besides, it’s high time you did it all on your own,” she lectured, causing Harry and Ron to look down at their feet while Neville and Ginny snickered. Those two had been doing their homework alone for years-- at least, they did not rely on Hermione nearly as heavily as Harry and Ron. However, Hermione wasn’t done.

“Neville, I’m afraid this includes you. I know that Professor Snape terrifies you, but if you’re going to study plants, you need to do well in potions. Perhaps my constant correction has been a detriment, but no longer. I won’t be helping you in class anymore. I’ll tutor you outside of it, and we can try to pre-brew complicated or dangerous potions, but I won’t be nudging your arm anymore,” she declared, and Neville paled while his boyfriend patted his back sympathetically.

“I’m rather glad to not be in your year. I might be panicking if I’d been able to rely on Hermione doing all my work this whole time,” Ginny teased, grinning viciously at Harry and Ron’s dismayed expressions. Neville sighed but smiled sheepishly.

“You’re right, Hermione. We can’t rely on you to do our work our whole lives,” he said diplomatically, which forced even Ron to nod along. With that settled, Hermione strong armed her friends into cracking open their textbooks from the previous year and refreshing their memory and doing a couple of essays. Hermione itched to get her hands on their new textbooks-- the trip to Diagon Alley couldn’t come soon enough.


	21. Chapter 21

Hermione had started to learn that, when it came to Harry, if a situation could go tits up, it would. Considering the danger of going to Diagon Alley, things were going swimmingly when they first arrived. Molly Weasley led the way, one arm protectively around Ginny, the other pointing wildly at storefronts they needed to go to and the items they needed. Bill joined from Gringotts on, bringing up the rear and chatting amicably with Harry and Ron. It nearly looked like a normal shopping trip, with one family escorting the friends of their children. Still, Hermione knew Tonks was also following them, in disguise, and spotted a couple of other Order members sporadically on the trip. 

They had managed to get to Gringotts and Flourish and Blott’s without any issue, outside of the usual problems of overcrowding with the back to school crowd. Hermione picked up a few books of her own, off list, about potions and the healing arts and self defense, particularly about wards. They had come with a hefty price, but given her frugal lifestyle and considerable savings from her parents, she felt comfortable with the purchase. She had gathered a nice amount of quills and parchment, too, and even played a good sport while her friends dragged her around the Quidditch equipment store. All that was left was getting fitted for new robes, then they would stop at Fred and George’s shop.

Hermione spotted the shock of white-blond hair before anyone else, and froze in place. Ron stumbled into her and followed her line of sight before scowling. Harry noticed as well and hurried into the shop, face harsh, utterly ignoring all of Hermione’s warnings and pleading to just wait a moment. Draco startled badly at seeing the group, and Hermione took the moment of his distraction to really study him. She knew his father had been arrested following the Department of Mysteries, and it clearly had a big toll on his family. 

Draco looked sickly pale and had bruised dark bags under his eyes. There was a slight tremor to him, an ever present nervousness, that Hermione had never seen before. He didn’t sneer or hold himself up straighter at the sight of his nemesis; if anything, he seemed to shrink down. His mother was not looking much better. It was the first time Hermione had seen her, and she had to admit Narcissa was very beautiful-- Draco took after her in the looks department. However, the aristocratic woman was incredibly paranoid and despite Draco having to stand still for his fitting, put her arm over his shoulder protectively. 

“Mrs. Malfoy,” Molly greeted, cold but polite as she eyed the wife of a Death Eater. Narcissa did not respond to the greeting with anything but a sneer, and Draco gulped, nervous in the tension of the room. The witch doing his fitting finished up and stepped away, and Draco pulled down his sleeves. Harry noticed the action and narrowed his eyes. Hermione noticed Draco see that, and with only the barest hint of his former smirk, pulled the left sleeve down tighter and began to try to keep it tugged down. Harry’s eyes widened just as Narcissa announced that they were leaving for a shop that would keep the filth out, eyeing Hermione nastily, but Hermione knew the damage had been done. The look on Harry’s face suggested that he had a theory, and no amount of logic would deter him.

She didn’t know how Harry managed to sneak away despite Molly’s fervent watching, or how she managed to do the same. A handful of resistance fighters was no match for Harry Potter following a hunch, but Hermione had been tailing the daft brat for years. She followed him as he followed the Malfoy’s, down to Knockturn Alley and Borgin and Burke’s-- Hermione at least had the sense to Disillusion herself. She felt an ungodly itching in her veins for it, still damaged by the curse. It had built up to a mild pain by the time Harry stopped. Harry was bloody obvious as he stared in the window of the storefront, and when someone shut the blinds and he turned around, Hermione was standing right there, ready to be in his face.

“Bloody hell, Hermione--” Harry yelled, startled, but she clamped a hand over his mouth with a thunderous expression and quickly led him away from the unsavory alleyway and back towards the group. He was lucky she didn’t drag him by the ear, particularly with as annoyed as she was with the continuing pain in her chest. She wasn’t even supposed to bloody use magic.

“Harry James Potter, you bloody incorrigible wanker!” she hissed, growing only more furious when he started to laugh at her cursing. She tightened her grip on his arm and growled under her breath.

“I cannot believe you would go waltzing off on your own as if there are not loads of furious Death Eaters just chomping at the bit to take you to their noseless wonder of a leader. Honestly! Do I have to put a Sticking Charm on our hands so you can’t just run off? And you didn’t even tell anyone! Do you want to be kidnapped?” she ranted out at him, rounding on him as he smiled again. She could feel the sparks in her hair, see them reflected in Harry’s glasses as they slid down his nose. He was at least beginning to look chargined, and more than a little frustrated, when Molly descended upon them.

“Where have you been?!” she shrieked, repeating all of Hermione’s points with a much kinder but stern way. Ron and Harry made eye contact, signalling a meeting later while Bill shook his head. Harry mumbled an apology but whispered to Hermione that the conversation was absolutely not over. She pressed her lips together in a thin line, growing weary of Harry’s constant disregard for her feelings and thoughts. 

Thankfully, the rest of the shopping trip went well, and by the time they reached Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes everyone had more or less calmed down and regained their good moods. Hermione brightened at the thought of seeing the twins, who didn’t disappoint as they came up to antagonize Ron and dote on her and Harry.

“Hey, love, are you healing up alright?” Fred asked in a soft tone as he gave her a gentle squeeze, earning a smile from the young woman.

“I’m fine, really. They let me out and about, and I’m nearly done with my potions,” she told him, brightening up as he smiled at her. He led her through the store, showing off new products before showing her to the back room and how the twins had implemented her suggestions and organization techniques. Hermione found herself suitably impressed as he gave the tour.

“So, the guy you were interested in. Is that…. Still a thing?” Fred asked, coughing as he tried to show that he wasn’t interested even as his body language showed that he was anything but. Hermione gave him a sad smile and nodded.

“Unfortunately, yes. I don’t think for a second anything will come of it, but… the heart isn’t exactly smart,” she explained, still feeling a little guilty for being utterly unable to return Fred’s feelings, especially when it would be so much easier if she could. Fred smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes, and he shrugged.

“Don’t I know it. Well, if the bloke has even half a brain, he’ll come around,” he ventured, then grabbed an obnoxiously orange box and plopped it into Hermione’s arms. She raised a brow so he quirked a grin and motioned for her to open it. Hermione sat at his workstation and did just that. The box contained a number of Weasley’s Wheezes from their WonderWitch line; a few daydream charms, some ten second pimple remover creams, and an assortment of perfumes and hair products next to chocolates and treats from a sweet shop. He had even put in extra quills in extravagant colors for good measure. Hermione grinned, though her brows furrowed in confusion, and she looked up at Fred.

“Why…?” she asked, and he shrugged.

“Well, it was meant to be a get well soon package, but then we got rather swamped here at work-- and I mean that literally, our portable swamps got set off when we were experimenting with some whizbangs and flooded the shop-- and Mum said you were released earlier than they thought initially, so I figured I’d just wait to give it to you in person. Consider it a congratulations for acing your OWLs,” he explained, smiling softly in a way that Hermione thought should have made her heart skip a beat. She gave him a lopsided grin in return.

“Thank you, Fred. I really appreciate it,” she told him as she closed the box. He eyed her for a moment before crossing the room and leaning over her as she sat on his stool. He gripped her shoulders lightly, running his hands down the tops of her arms and back up to her shoulders.

“Please, Hermione, is there any way I can win you over?” he asked, surprising her and himself with his plea. She frowned, guilt eating away at her inside as bile rose up her throat. She absolutely hated that she couldn’t respond to his gentle touch or pleading words or thoughtful gifts the way he wanted. She said nothing, and Fred sighed before pressing his forehead to the top on her head. He pulled away a second later, smiling as if nothing had happened. 

“Right, well, Mum is probably looking for you by now, let’s head back up,” he said, quickly disengaging and heading towards the door. Hermione waited a moment before following, staring vacantly at the space he had left before standing and following, tucking the box into her extended bag. 

Her friends were all still looking around the store at the myriad of wonderful products, and Fred had managed to put half a store between them in his haste to distance himself from yet another rejection. Hermione frowned, but quickly caught up to Ginny’s side as she picked out a Pygmy Puff with a delighted grin.

“I think I’ll call him Arnold,” she announced, smiling at Hermione and petting the bright purple ball of fluff. Hermione scritched it with her finger, smiling wryly, and followed Ginny around while Molly gathered them up to leave. It never ceased to surprise Hermione how quickly Molly Weasley could gather up her family and escort them home. The safety of Grimmauld Place felt like a godsend to her when they made it home, and she excused herself to her room to sort her supplies while everyone else remained giddy from their excursion. 

She nearly screamed when she found Snape in her room, sitting at her desk and glaring at the door. Her wand was trained on him instantly, and she didn’t lower it when he raised a brow at her. 

“Good reflexes, Granger,” he muttered, and she hesitantly lowered her wand and closed the door behind her. She eyed Snape, taking in his general condition. He seemed as exhausted as ever, his shoulders sagging as he leaned against the sturdy desk. 

“Thank you, sir,” she finally responded, moving further into the room and placing her bag on her bed and removing her purchases, leaving the box from Fred. Snape stood and began pacing the room, earning a curious look from Hermione, who followed the movement out of the corner of her eye. She hadn’t seen him in a couple of weeks, not since he left in a hurry after seeking an audience with the Headmaster, and she thought he looked even worse than then.

“Miss Granger, you have placed a great amount of confidence and trust onto me,” Snape began, and Hermione sat on the edge of her bed as she stared at him quizzically, her nerves causing a relentless churning in her stomach and making her heart speed up. Was he about to test that trust? Was he cutting her out yet again? The possibilities were endless and terrifying and she found herself growing dizzy as a ringing began in her ears.

She clutched at her bedding and heard a mumbling sound from Snape as her vision started blacking out again, panic growing as she realized she was panicking again. She grabbed desperately at her bag, trying to find her calming draught, but Snape took the bag from her and Summoned them out for her, passing her a vial which she immediately downed. The cloyingly sweet taste of honey coated her tongue, but a wave of calmness overcame her. 

When she finally caught her breath, her embarrassment was strong but distant. She was able to focus on Snape’s face as he stood over her, concerned and frowning as he took in her condition. He seemed to be cataloging her condition just as much as she had been doing to him just minutes earlier. His fingers had gripped her chin to tilt her face towards him, and she had a loopy thought that he might just kiss her. 

“Feeling any better, Miss Granger?” he asked, tone soft, his face betraying his worry. She nodded slowly, her mind a little fuzzy under the effects of the calming potion. The thought passed.

“Yes, but the honey was a terrible idea. Far too sweet,” she concluded, amazed that he actually graced her with a little smile for her comment. He chuckled, a rough sound, and Hermione blinked owlishly at him. She savored the sound, committing it to memory.

“I figured as much, but if I said anything, you would hardly learn for yourself,” he told her before running his hand over his chin and taking in her condition. She stared back at him just as intensely, feeling quite relaxed but a little unfocused. 

“I thought by this point you weren’t afraid of me,” he asked, voice quiet, and Hermione laughed lightly. Snape startled at the sound, and she calmed down enough to explain.

“No, not afraid of you. I just… I thought you might be trying to push me away again. That I had done something wrong,” she said, tongue feeling sticky and heavy in her mouth. Vaguely, she wondered if only a half-vial would be a better dose for her in the future, and made a mental note for it. Snape frowned, slightly shaking his head.

“I… see. I am… unsure how to assure you. I make no promises for the future. In fact, it may fall to you to dissolve our agreement. You have not asked anything of me regarding my… duties in this war. But I feel I must test that trust now. The Headmaster does not wish me to tell anyone about my assignment, but… I cannot abide by that any longer,” Snape began, pacing across the floor again. It was a nervous habit he didn’t typically indulge in, and that he had done it twice was quite telling. He waved his hand towards the door, setting in heavier wards before turning towards Hermione to speak again, but closed his mouth with a click.

“Sir? … Severus?” she asked quietly, and he paced again. Hermione was more concerned than ever, and stood before putting a hand on his arm to stop his pattern. When he looked down at her hand, an intense look of grief darkened his face. For once, he leaned into her touch and his other hand twitched, aching to cover hers.

“I… I cannot go into detail. There is… a terrible task ahead, and things are going to be darker than you ever imagined. I can promise very little to you, but know that I will do all in my power to protect you and the rest of the Order, no matter how contrary it may seem,” he told her, tone nearly pleading. Hermione frowned, panic alarms going off in her head despite the forced calm of the potion. She stepped slightly closer to him, looking up at his troubled face with concern. 

“Severus?” she asked again in a whisper, worry evident on her face, and he gripped her shoulders. Her eyes widened at the gesture, and the closeness he was allowing. He said nothing further, but loosened his grip and ran his hands down her arms and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest. He breathed deeply, squeezing her lightly while she hesitantly raised her own arms around him. More than anything, his embrace terrified her. Whatever he had been tasked with had to be horrifying.

His embrace increased, like he had never held anyone before. She squeezed back just as fervently, feeling his arm move up her back so his hand gently held the back of her head, cuddling her closer into his chest. She could have melted if not for the overwhelming concern she felt for him, feeling his heart beat fast inside his chest.

“When… when it happens, I only ask that you put that mind of yours to work and see beyond the obvious,” he asked in a hushed whisper, his breath on the top of her head. Hermione looked up, troubled, and met his impossibly dark eyes. 

“Of course. I would do anything for you-- to help you,” she said, amending quickly though his expression didn’t change at the admission. Instead he stepped away, leaving her feeling cold in the absence of his arms. He frowned, nearly pained.

“I would never ask for more than I believe you can provide. I can only ask for your future trust. I… am unsure if I will return before the school year starts. Things are… worsening. It would be unwise for you or your friends to leave the Headquarters unchaperoned. I must leave now, I shouldn’t have stopped here at all, but… Take care, Hermione,” he advised, then turned and left.

Hermione stared at the door, worried and terrified about what the hell Snape could have been talking about. A sense of foreboding settled in her spine, unlikely to ease any time before the war was won.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be a very long chapter but I didn't see a way to shorten it or break it into two. A lot to unpack here. I hope you enjoy it!

Harry drove Hermione crazy all night with his theorizing about Draco Malfoy being a Death Eater. No matter how she tried to explain that the bratty teen was trying to trick him and get a rise out of him, or was leading him towards a trap, he refused to listen. She had to admit that he did have some good points in his theory, in that it would make sense for Voldemort to need to replace Lucius while also punishing him. However, Hermione still didn’t think it held up. Draco was too immature and volatile, using him for anything would be disastrous. 

The argument was cut off the next morning when Dumbledore showed up to take Harry for a secret outing. The wizened old man fixed Hermione with a raised brow when their eyes met, and she looked away sullenly. She was still upset with him for his useless chastising from when she was in the Hospital Wing. That was not at all fixed by the long hours he kept Harry away without telling anyone in the Order where they were going, or for what purpose.

With Harry gone and Ron and Ginny practicing flying in the small garden in the back, Hermione was left to her own devices. The memories of Snape’s vague but concerning words came back to her with a vengeance. While he was never direct, he seemed almost impossible to understand. She worried her lip as she sat in the library, a book open on her lap while she stared at the wall across from her. There was too much to think about, and not enough answers.

She was distracted from those thoughts when she heard the front door open and someone enter. Curious and tired of trying to consider every intricacy of the war, Hermione went down to greet the visitor and found Harry looking a little annoyed. 

“Harry?” she asked, and he looked up, startled.

“Oh, hey Hermione,” he greeted, entering the hall. “Are Ron and Ginny around?”

Hermione nodded, glad to see he was distracted with something else and unwilling to pick back up their argument, even if she still had more points to make about his willful disappearing act without telling anyone. She told him she would gather their friends and asked him to make tea before heading out to the garden. Ginny and Ron were easy to coax inside once she mentioned Harry’s return, and soon all four were sitting in the kitchen, cups warming their hands while Harry began to fill them in.

He told them of the wizard he went with Dumbledore to recruit, a retired professor named Horace Slughorn. He had been in hiding, and had even disguised himself as an armchair whenever they had arrived, but agreed to return to Hogwarts to teach Harry. Evidently, the man had been known as a collector of potential celebrities or connections during his time as Head of Slytherin. Harry wasn’t terribly convinced of the man’s abilities beyond transfiguration, but Dumbledore was adamant that he needed Slughorn nearby.

“He wants me to talk to him, I guess Slughorn has some information that he won’t tell Dumbledore,” he explained, perplexed at why the task fell to him. 

“Well, I know you’re easy to talk to, but he knows Dumbledore is a leader of a war. He’s… intimidating many people. You’re easier to trust. But it isn’t like he’s likely to tell you all his secrets immediately. When we get back to school, maybe I can help you figure out how best to approach him,” Hermione offered, and Harry offered a half smile.

“I guess so, but I don’t know. He seemed pretty scared,” he returned, and Ginny grabbed his hand with an encouraging smile.

“We’re all pretty scared. We go to school in a few weeks, when we get settled in and start having his classes, you’ll get a better feel for how to talk to him. Maybe he’ll be so impressed that the Boy Who Lived sought out his guidance that he’ll spill it!” she teased, giving a smarmy grin while Harry rolled his eyes.

“Gin’s right though, Harry. Hermione too. There isn’t anything we can really do this summer until we’re in school. At least we know who our Defense professor will be for the year, and if he’s lucky he’ll just get to retire again in the summer. The position is jinxed,” Ron reminded them, sipping at his tea with a thoughtful look. It reminded her of when he played Chess-- he even bit the inside of his lip on the left side, showing he was really thinking about strategy. 

Hermione paused to consider that, too. The name Slughorn was familiar from her foray into studying the first war, but she couldn’t place it quite yet. She wondered if Dumbledore had offered him the single year option, in an attempt to circumvent some terrible fate with the jinx. The group spent a little time discussing it further, but quieted immediately when Molly tried to shoo them from the kitchen, followed by Kingsley and Tonks and a few other Order members. Something in the belittling dismissal set Hermione on edge, perhaps from the slight ache that remained in her scar, and she planted her feet firm inside the doorway, forcing the Order members behind her to use the other door.

“Wait, Mrs. Weasley! Let us in on the meeting!” Hermione asked, refusing to beg but needing to make her case. She saw Snape enter the room quietly with her distraction, his eyebrow raised but otherwise not acknowledging her stance. Molly frowned, hands on her hips and a face that bore no fighting.

“Absolutely not, it isn’t for children! You lot best go off and do some studying while the adults discuss things!” Molly chided, and Hermione felt her cheeks go red with anger and embarrassment but took a deep breath through her nose before opening her mouth to retort, but Snape beat her to it.

“They stopped being children the moment they went off on a mission to secure the safety of a captured Order member. They were the leaders of an operation that led to the capture of a number of key players in the Death Eaters, regardless of how ill advised that mission was. To dismiss their use so flippantly for something as useless as sentimentals and childhood innocence is not only foolish but wrong,” he said, nearly making Molly squeak with shock while the rest of the Order turned to look at him in surprise. Hermione, too, was shocked that he bothered coming to her defense, let alone that of her friends, when it was not a particularly tense moment.

“Are you telling me, Snape, that you think their blundering in the Ministry was a good idea?” Kingsley scoffed, shaking his head. Snape smirked, his eyes cold as he did.

“Absolutely not. They never should have gone off on their own-- they should have waited or contacted myself or Minerva after making their escape from that vile toad of a woman. However, we cannot discount their behaviour once they reached the Ministry. When children walked in, soldiers walked out, and we suffered no losses in that fight. Miss Granger herself saved the life of Black, though he has yet to prove he deserved it. It also forced the hand of Voldemort in a way that we could not for how we act. The information in this meeting is information they will soon hear of-- do they not deserve some modicum of truth in this war? They are participants no matter how you wish for them to remain as children,” he retorted. 

Sirius curled his lip, and took a step forward towards Snape.

“Don't use her saving my life in your little game, Snape. They should be included, absolutely, but don't act so noble about it. We all know you're just trying to win Hermione’s favor,” he spat, gesturing roughly at the witch in question, who nearly saw red at the accusation. Snape’s face contorted with rage again but Hermione beat him to the punch, or rather, the slap.

“That's enough! How dare you continuously try to accuse Professor Snape of impropriety for merely treating me as an equal! I have told you already that he is my professor and mentor, and has never once tried to take advantage of me in any way, or behaved inappropriately, which is more than I can say of you! If you truly appreciate my saving your life, then drop those baseless accusations!” She ranted, hair sparking with her righteous fury. Under the shocked stares of the rest of the Order, she faltered but straightened her back to look haughtily back at them. Sirius held his stinging cheek with a pout, and Snape hid his delighted smirk behind a curtain of hair.

Dumbledore entered at last to a silent room, still on the edge and the teens in the doorway. Molly pounced on the opportunity to get Dumbledore on her side.

“Dumbledore, will you tell the children to go off so we can start the meeting? Severus wishes to include them, but they are not yet of age and I--” she started in, and Dumbledore blinked owlishly at the mention of the dark robed professor, then looked at Hermione trying to look unaffected in the middle of the kitchen. He raised a hand, silencing Molly, then nodded slightly.

“Perhaps it is time for them to join. I am aware of their ages, Molly, however I cannot discount the amount of heroism and benefit they have already brought our Order. Besides, a meeting does not mean an assignment. They may sit in this time,” he allowed, leaving Molly frowning and Snape smirking victoriously. Hermione led Harry and her friends into the kitchen again, well aware of their eyes on her, standing along the wall while adults filled the chairs. Hermione took care not to go immediately to Snape’s side, though his logical defense on their behalf did little to lessen her crush on him. After her outburst, it would only lock in Sirius’s claims. Not that her rabid defense actually helped matters either, but at least Sirius would shut up about it for a while. She settled for a minute tug at the corner of her lips in his direction.

“Now that the issue of attendance has been settled, perhaps you could fill us in on your report, Severus?” Dumbledore prompted, and Snape nodded before he began to tell everyone what he had learned from Voldemort’s side. Two important things had happened, that immediately tested the strength of Hermione and the other teens: Ollivander was kidnapped, and Amelia Bones was dead.

Hermione felt tears prickle her eyes but remained steadfast, taking in the reactions of her friends. Harry looked ready to be sick, Ron was upset but deep in thought, and Ginny had a hand over her mouth, skin pale and sickly. Looking out over the more adult members of the order showed similar responses as Snape went into more detail, explaining that Voldemort himself had tracked Amelia Bones down and murdered her in person, but used another team to capture Ollivander, who no one had considered in need of protection.

“I had not known of either operation before they were committed-- he had directed my efforts elsewhere. I believe he is growing more paranoid and is assigning tasks to his generals with demands to have no one else know of their mission until it is successful or fails, regardless of if more hands would be wise,” he detailed, and Sirius scoffed spitefully.

“So who were you sent to murder this week then? Who are we protecting from you?” he spat, and Snape snarled viciously.

“You are protecting no one, you useless mutt,” he hissed, causing Sirius to stand, wand drawn, but Snape already had his trained on him.

“Enough! This needless posturing is distracting from what we need to know. Severus, why was Ollivander taken?” asked Kingsley, trying to set the meeting more to rights. Snape’s jaw clicked as he clenched his teeth, still furious, but he continued speaking. Evidently, Voldemort was desperate to have a new wand, after his clash with Harry in the Triwizard Tournament. Hermione’s brow furrowed with thought, and she noticed Ron with a similar expression.

“Why does he need a new wand? Is it because ours are connected?” Harry asked, speaking up for the first time since Molly tried to block them from the meeting. Snape rolled his eyes but gave a curt nod.

“Observant, but yes, Potter. You saw first hand how your two wands react to each other. He believes with a different wand, one not connected by the same core, that he will have the advantage and be able to kill you,” he explained, and Ginny grabbed Harry’s hand as he gulped but nodded.

“Where has he taken Ollivander?” Dumbledore asked, and Snape shook his head.

“I can venture a few guesses, though I do not know the exact location. The most likely place would be Malfoy Manor, but that is nearly as impenetrable as this headquarters. The Dark Lord has selected it as his base, it is constantly rife with his soldiers and warded extensively, and also sports a rather grim dungeon,” he supplied, running his hand along his chin as he considered it.

The meeting continued on, tedious but filled with tension and grief. Though Amelia Bones’s death was a shock and a horrible one at that, there was nothing that could be done to save her. Once all attempts to plan a rescue for Ollivander were discussed but ultimately dismissed, talk moved into the discussion of why. Ollivander was easy enough to guess-- the man would likely be kept alive so long as he produced wands for Voldemort. However, Amelia’s death was very much a political move. Arthur and Kingsley were set to keep their ear to the ground as to who would replace her-- that person would be in the pocket of Voldemort.

After all discussion had run out on the newest topics, Dumbledore stood.

“If there is nothing further to add, then let us disperse,” he dismissed, and Harry stepped forward with determination on his face.

“I have something to add,” he said about the din of the scraping of chairs, and all attention turned to him. Hermione rolled her eyes, knowing what he was about to say. “I have reason to believe Draco Malfoy is a Death Eater now.”

“That’s preposterous, Potter,” Snape dismissed with a scoff, and Hermione nodded with him. She agreed wholeheartedly, and was glad for the extra backup.

“How would you know? Volde--” Harry started to shout, but Snape crossed the room and put a hand over his mouth, face contorted with anger. Several Order members moved to intervene but froze as Snape did not hurt Harry, who slapped his arm away.

“Do not speak his name around me!” he snapped, removing his hand and regaining his rigid posture. Harry looked at him with cold fury, lip curled with disgust.

“Don’t put your hand on me!” Harry retorted, a furious expression on his face, though Snape did not react to that. “I’m just saying that HE clearly doesn’t tell you everything, and that it makes sense to bring another Death Eater into the school. When we saw him in Diagon Alley, he was seriously trying to hide his left arm, and I saw him in Borgin and Burke’s with Greyback!” 

At that, everyone stopped to pay attention. Molly narrowed her eyes, still upset that Harry had snuck off on his own. Hermione frowned, upset that Harry had withheld seeing Greyback with Malfoy, despite their argument. Another part of her snidely reminded her of her own secret keeping, and she felt that familiar sting of guilt over it.

“And what exactly do you think you were doing, following a potential Death Eater into enemy territory?” Snape hissed, lip curled with disgust. At his admonishment, Harry looked petulant.

“Was nearly getting your friends killed mere months ago not enough? Had to go and risk yourself again? Perhaps I was wrong in advocating all of you-- clearly you remain too immature to handle any knowledge in this war!” He continued, sneering with contempt. 

“That isn't fair! Clearly Harry got some amount of information, and is could be possible that Malfoy has been Marked!” Ginny argued, gaining Snape’s ire.

“Whatever imaginings you may have over it, my presence and that of all other accounted for Death Eaters is required for the ceremony. As I have not attended one for Mr. Malfoy, I can assure you he is not Marked,” Snape bit out, annoyed that his authority on the subject had been flouted. Harry still didn’t look convinced.

“Regardless of the status of young Malfoy to the Dark Lord, you still went off on your own, without alerting anyone, into dangerous territory yet again! Are you incapable of learning lessons?” Snape continued, and Harry jutted out his chin, defiant and angry.

“I wasn't alone! Hermione followed me!” He revealed, and Snape turned to her with disappointment on his face and an unamused eyebrow raised. She froze, feeling caught in the spotlight, and met his gaze with trepidation.

“Really, Miss Granger? I thought you wiser than to follow Potter off into the unknown once again, especially in your condition,” he chided, as if speaking to a particularly bothersome child. The word ‘condition’ came out with a pitying disgust. Her entire face and chest went red with embarrassment, and she pressed her lips together to keep from retorting, nearly going purple with humiliation as she heard as everyone began to murmur. Her inability to use much magic yet was not information that had been divulged to anyone beyond herself, the Headmaster, Professor Snape and Madame Pomfrey.

Honestly, a slap would have stung less. Though he was as inexpressive as ever, Hermione could see the faint regret on his face immediately after his taunt, but it wasn’t enough. He would not backtrack, particularly not with an audience. She glared at him, an icy and furious look, and wished desperately that they didn’t have a crowd so she could scream at him the way she wanted to. Instead, she yelled the thoughts at him mentally, hoping he would pick up on them and get a headache. Mortified was not strong enough-- betrayal turned her veins cold and threatened tears in her eyes. Gods, was she sick of fucking crying over her feelings getting hurt.

“What condition, Hermione?” Harry asked, while Ron gave Hermione a sympathetic gaze. Odd. She took a steadying breath through her nose, nostrils flaring, before turning to her friend and breaking eye contact with Snape. Her face still burned with shame, but her back remained rigid with pride.

“I'm not supposed to be using magic. The whole summer, actually. It could damage my magical core,” she admitted, hating Snape in that moment for forcing her to reveal that secret. Harry blinked, pale, and she heard more than one gasp. That was an awful diagnosis, even if she wasn't meant to use magic outside of school anyway. If an emergency happened, she was well and truly screwed. She glowered again at Snape, but he looked utterly unrepentant.

“Then why did you follow me!” Harry demanded, bewildered by that tidbit of information. Hermione rounded on him, frustrated by the direction the meeting had taken.

“Because someone needs to keep an eye on you! Draco could have been leading you into a trap, and what then? I can at least physically fight people, or scream for help if they catch you,” she hissed defensively, jabbing a finger into his chest. “I was the only one to see you, and it’s not like you would listen if I told you not to follow danger. Never have before.”

“Regardless, you also put yourself in great danger by following Harry, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore reminded her, looking down his long nose with a keen look. She wanted to scream, she was so angry. Ron stepped up close to her, hand on her shoulder, and cleared his throat. Hermione nearly decked him, but forced herself to calm down-- he wasn’t trying to belittle her as well.

“If his key players are locked up, as you said, would those same rules hold true? Is it possible that he would want to increase his ranks without everyone needing to know, so that he could spy on his own members if need be?” Ron asked, voice one of contemplation instead of accusation. It was a diversion and everybody knew it, but Hermione had to admit it was a smart move. Any further questions and she was likely to snap. Snape considered him with furrowed brows before giving a slight nod of consideration.

“That idea may have merit, Mr. Weasley, but I have not seen that enacted as of yet. I cannot get into the ritual in any amount of detail, but it requires a good amount of wizards present. Small numbers would be… disastrous,” Snape explained, leaving Ron with something to contemplate. With the idea of Draco as a Death Eater currently deemed as false, he nodded to Dumbledore and slipped out of the meeting like the hounds of Hell were chasing him. In reality, he knew Hermione would likely hex him into oblivion if she caught him, condition or not. The others followed suit at a more leisurely pace. 

Harry stormed upstairs, still furious at being dismissed, and Hermione sighed as she watched him. She understood his frustrations, really, but at the same time she was tired of him being an unprepared idiot. She refused to admit to her own parallels and turned away from where he had gone, shame faced.

“I’ll go talk to him,” Ginny excused herself, a queasy look still on her face. Hermione and Ron took off to Hermione’s room, leaving Harry and Ginny alone for the time being. Ron, at least, had been somewhat on the fence regarding the Draco debate, and looked like he had more to think about.

They sat in tense silence, both two caught up in their own thoughts to have much to say. Hermione pulled out her trusty notebook, updating her notes with rough handwriting with her new information before flipping back through and reading some of her earlier notes. Anything to distract from the bitter feeling of Snape’s betrayal. She found Slughorn’s name, and sat up when she read what she had on him-- information copied from a Hogwarts yearbook from the seventies. Just because she was angry and upset didn’t mean she couldn’t be useful.

Slughorn had been the potions professor that predated Snape, and his head of House. Hermione was startled to realize that Slughorn was not likely to be their Defense professor, as Harry had thought, but their potions professor, leaving Snape to teach Defense, as well as to leave at the end of the year. She frowned, worry overcoming her as she considered that in conjunction with Snape’s attempt to tell her about a difficult task ahead of him.

Somehow, she knew, Ollivander’s kidnapping and the murder of Amelia Bones tied into it. She felt an itch and looked up to see Ron staring at her with a curious but uncertain expression on his face. He opened his mouth to speak, hesitated, then tried again.

“What did you just realize?” he asked, and Hermione faltered. 

“Well, I had made note of some past professors, the ones that taught during the first war. Professor Slughorn taught Potions, not Defense Against the Dark Arts. I think Professor Snape is meant to teach us Defense this year,” she admitted, closing her notebook and worrying her lip. Ron blinked, surprised, then narrowed his eyes.

“That doesn’t make any sense. Why would Dumbledore try to get rid of Snape? I mean, he’s a bloody bastard but he is a spy for the Order,” Ron said, thinking out loud and not liking the results. He shook his head, frowning.

“I can’t tell what he’s planning. Well, either of them. Dumbledore or You-Know-Who,” he continued, leaning forward on the couch to rest his elbows on his knees, fingers threaded together under his chin while he thought. Hermione observed him with some interest. She had always known that he had a head for strategy and logic, even though he rarely displayed his intelligence in his schoolwork. It was reassuring to see him applying himself so heartily to the strategies in the war, and no small amount of pride filled her that he was coming to the same conclusions she was.

“I can’t either. All I know is that I feel nervous,” she admitted, wrapping her arms around herself as a shiver passed through her. Ron nodded, looking at his feet before sneaking a glance up her way. He shuffled his feet a little, then cleared his throat.

“Hermione, you know you can tell me anything, right? About Snape, or anything else,” he asked, squeezing his hands together and looking at her with a nearly pained expression. Hermione blinked rapidly at the question, and felt alarm bells going off in her head. Ron was gazing at her with sincere concern, but also clearly knew more than she thought, and wouldn’t take any of her distractions. Her worry was vice-like in her chest, but she put on a calming smile anyway.

“Ron… I really appreciate you looking out for me, but Professor Snape really hasn’t done anything untowards with me. I was honest when I was yelling at Sirius earlier. I… we, well, we’ve been meeting for a while to discuss the war. He hasn’t really told me anything new, or any secret information, but… he actually listens to my ideas and concerns about everything. He… hasn’t made me feel like a little kid who just needs to go to bed, but as an adult who has a lot of stake in this conflict. I’m sure he does still think of me as a child, but… it was nice today that he acknowledged our status and defended us,” she explained, as honest as she felt she could be to one of her best friends. 

Ron nodded slowly, struggling to look neutral though his ears went pink. Hermione watched as he considered what she had revealed.

“It does make some amount of sense, I guess… I can’t really imagine any other teacher not treating you like a kid. I don’t think he understands what being a kid means at all, was he ever a baby?” Ron responded, grinning at his joke and laughing at Hermione’s torn expression. She honestly didn’t know if she wanted to scold him for disrespect or laugh right along at the thought of Severus Snape in a miniature form, never having been young.

Ron’s laughter died out and he sighed, then seemed to consider something before speaking again.

“I still had some things I wanted to talk to you about,” he asked, and Hermione nodded, more than a little curious. Ron looked troubled as he sat on the edge of her bed, lips pressed tight together while he considered his words. He was distinctly uncomfortable, but clearly determined.

“When you first woke up in the Hospital Wing, I was already awake. I… I overheard your conversation. Maybe you don’t remember it, but... You were talking about something weird. I haven’t wanted to ask about it, and maybe it isn’t any of my business. But, Snape was talking about your bracelet being destroyed and that making people suspicious. About how you needed to make another but couldn’t use magic,” he revealed, and Hermione stared at him, her ears suddenly ringing. 

It was the confrontation she had been so terrified of for so long. Her whole world seemed to crumple in on itself in that moment, and she stared blankly at him. It was as if she were gone from the moment, watching instead. She had expected to be hysterical at the confrontation, but instead her eyes just unfocused but did not tear up.

“Ron, I… I don’t want you to ever hate me,” she whispered, words slow but sure, and she focused her eyes on him and swallowed a lump in her throat. If she gave in to tears then, there would be no stopping her. She pushed the fear deeper into her mind, locking it away in her mental Restricted Section. Ron watched as she shuddered and shook her head and focused again.

“Hermione, I could never hate you,” he assured her, taking a hold of her hand and squeezing it gently. She had always been the cool headed one, but her uncanny and blank expression was leaving him uneasy. It reminded him a little of Snape when he was trying not to explode, though it typically never lasted long. With a start, he realized she was Occluding, and he stared at her with startled fascination.

“I… I haven’t been honest with you. Any of you. Ron, I’m not sixteen going on seventeen. I’m nearly nineteen,” she admitted, voice heavy with guilt. She felt sick to her stomach at finally admitting it to her friend. Ron just chuckled, confused, but his eyes remained concerned. Hermione swallowed another lump, pushing the guilt back. She needed to only focus on the facts-- emotions would derail the entire thing. She was cold and unfeeling but found comfort in the emptiness. It would be her reality soon enough.

“What are you talking about? You don’t look at all that old,” he responded, smiling even as he furrowed his brows. She took a deep breath, then removed her necklace. As she did, her glamour was dissolved. Ron stared at his suddenly changed friend, and Hermione focused her eyes on the necklace’s charm, recalling Snape’s reaction at seeing her for the first time as she truly was.

Ron stood, confusion clear on his face. He eyed her more as he stood before her, taking in every change from the friend he had known. Hermione refused to meet his eye, but stood as well. She leaned against the door, clenching her jaw. She waited for him to say anything, to explode at her or do something. Her height had changed, and her weight, and he could finally see how threadbare she had let herself become. The scar was nowhere near healed, still an angry red with purple bruising around it. The weeks had done little to heal it up, even with potions and salves. Her eyes were haunted and surrounded by dark smudges from a lack of sleep and overload of stress. He hadn’t realized how tough things had truly been for her, and he nearly wanted to cry.

Instead, Ron sighed softly.

“Hermione… what the fuck?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, at the end... We finally reached Ron's confrontation. A lot more confrontations are going to happen from here on out... I only hope, dear readers, that you will forgive me in the end for what chapters will come ;)


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be another long one, but I think you'll see why I couldn't quite break it down. I'm pretty sure you'll like it ;)

Hermione quietly began to explain, waiting for his interruption at every turn. He stayed silent, listening to her closely as she spoke. She told him about the Time Turner, and how she actually really used it, and her necessity causing her to develop her own layered glamour charm. She spoke of what she had learned, both about the war and in going to college, and the chance meeting with Snape.

Even with her anger at him, she didn’t tell Ron about how she had seen him returning to the castle broken and battered from Death Eater meetings, or how she had observed that his disappearances at night would coincide with dark events. There was no need to cause further distrust. 

When she finally stopped talking, she had just told him of her parents being Obliviated. He still didn’t speak, just sat on her bed and stared at the floor. His expression was vacant after taking everything in. Hermione could read nothing on him, and desperately wanted him to respond in some way. The suspense was killing her, and she had to hold back her urge to continuously apologize.

“What the bloody hell,” Ron finally let out in a whoosh of breath, looking at his friend as if he had never known her. Her face was grave as she stared at him, unblinking eyes showing her inner anguish, rising up despite her best efforts at Occluding. She had already bit her lip so much in worry that it had bled. A slight tremble shook her shoulders. In that moment, he pitied Hermione. She had given up everything for the war, and would likely have to give more. 

His arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly against his chest. It was difficult to react to what she had told him. It felt… outlandish. Impossible, even. The Hermione he knew was honest nearly to a fault, and bound to the rules as if her life depended on it. This new version had committed multiple crimes and had been lying for two years to her friends, and lived nearly another two years in that time. She had grown up so much in that time, and he was no longer surprised at her distance through the year. It had been her first year back without her parents, as an adult aged witch.

It also put her strangely intense defense of Snape in better perspective. He was observant, even if he rarely did anything with what he noticed. Unlike some people in his family, he never saw fit to meddle with others-- they generally figured things out on their own and learned the lessons better that way. Ron had noticed that Hermione was frequently missing for hours, more than she had been before, and spoke more of potions research than other topics.

She had also looked more stressed than ever at the beginning of the year, which dropped off after her meetings with Snape began. He started to suspect her feelings regarding the dour professor when he cancelled their pre-apprenticeship, given the intense level of heartbreak Hermione had over it.

Hermione’s confession filled in the gaps that he couldn’t figure out, and never would have thought of. Of course, she didn’t tell him that she had fallen in love with Snape. He didn’t think she even realized how deep she was in with that nonsense. He rested his chin on top of Hermione’s head, and gently stroked the back of her head. He really wished he had Neville with him to help out. He had no idea how to handle a secret of that magnitude.

She kept a firm hold on her friend, hoping irrationally that as long as she could keep a hold on him, he wouldn’t hate her. Maybe he wouldn’t tell her that he couldn’t be friends with her anymore. Things could stay okay so long as she could keep holding him. Ron adjusted in her grip and kept an arm around her, letting her stay as close as she needed.

“Okay… First of all, I don’t hate you,” he told her, knowing her well enough to know that was her greatest fear. She took in a shuddering breath but said nothing, waiting instead for him to continue.

“That doesn't mean I'm okay with any of this. It's messed up,” he followed up, tone stern but restrained. It was actually incredibly hard for Ron not to yell at Hermione, but he was trying to be mature and calm. Channelling his inner Neville, he thought with a brief, minute smile. Hermione nodded against his chest, swallowing the lump in her throat.

“I know,” she whispered, feeling a few tears leak out. But Ron still didn't shove her aside, or start yelling. She started to calm down, though her nerves didn't relax.

“It’s just… why didn't you tell us?” He asked, hurt seeping into his voice. Hermione shrugged, glad her ashamed face was hidden. Glad she couldn't see the pain on Ron’s.

“I… I didn't want either of you to ruin your lives too. Harry has had so much taken from him, and so much riding on him. I could tell that even before the prophecy. I didn't want to give him a secret to carry as well. And you have your whole family that loves you and that you’re close with. I couldn't make you lie to them. But I only thought about that after I had realized I was already a full year older. By then, I was so afraid of you both cutting me out for hiding it, or ratting me out, that I just felt I couldn't tell you,” she explained. 

“I would never rat you out!” Ron objected, a little offended, and Hermione made a noise suspiciously like a snort.

“Well, maybe not you. But Harry gets loose lips when he's angry. And after this year, figuring out his connection… I can't tell Harry. Not right now. When this war is over, after we win… I will tell him then,” Hermione promised. 

Ron didn’t like it. He didn’t like it in the slightest. He didn’t want to be compliant in keeping secrets from Harry, which was at the top of the list of things that pissed his friend off to the point of seeing red. However, he did not want to force Hermione to tell him if she wasn’t ready. He hated it, but she had a good point.

He had also worried about the connection between Harry and Voldemort, and what that meant. For the moment, Harry simply wasn’t safe to entrust critical information with. Maybe with more Occlumency lessons, but as it was….

It was a giant mess. Ron’s head hurt from taking in everything that Hermione had told him, and it was difficult to make sense of anything. He had so many questions, but wasn’t sure if he wanted or could even handle the answers. He was quite honestly on edge as it was, and getting by on acting how he knew Neville would be proud of. The Weasley temper was something of legends for good reason.

“I’ll make sure you do,” he finally said, a promise and a near threat. Hermione flinched, just barely, but he still felt it and was instantly guilt ridden. He didn’t want to scare his friend, who was already terrified at coming clean. He finally pulled away, despite Hermione’s tight grip, but squeezed her shoulders reassuringly.

“Listen, I promise I don’t hate you. This is just…. A lot. It’s a bit bloody much, and I need to go process it. I’m not going to tell Harry, I get why you won’t but… I don’t like it. I’m not mad, just… give me time, okay?” he told her, trying to find the least offensive way to put it. She already looked to be on the edge of hysteria, kept calm by her mental shields. Hermione nodded, putting the necklace back on and becoming the friend he knew so well again. It was disorienting.

“I’m off to bed, we’ll talk about this later. I still love you, Hermione,” he told her, giving her a gentle look as she nodded quickly again, lips pressed tight together as she struggled not to burst out in tears. Ron understood the look and left, wondering how much of his friend he truly knew as he closed the door behind him.

\--

Ron was true to his word and hadn’t told Harry, or anyone, after learning of Hermione’s secret. At first, she was on edge and wanted to jump anytime someone spoke to her, but she slowly relaxed and was able to focus on completing all her summer assignments and read through all her textbooks twice. It was typical Hermione behavior, something she could cling to for a sense of normalcy as well as preparing for the year. 

It was expected of her, something safe. After talking to Ron, she wasn’t sure anymore what anyone thought of her, or how she normally behaved. It was like acting for a play she read years ago without seeing the script, jilting and off balance but in the vaguest sense familiar. No one commented on her lack of equilibrium, though, and she was relieved for it.

Harry’s birthday even came without incident. Snape didn’t show up to the event at all, thankfully, and Hermione was glad to spend the time worry free with the Weasley’s and some of the younger Order members. Fred didn’t even avoid her, which was something she worried about, but Sirius did, for which she was thankful. 

At the end of a fun filled night, spent playing stupid games and avoiding being caught spiking drinks when Molly wasn’t looking, Harry found Hermione while trying to hide from Luna and Ginny. It was nice to see Luna and Neville again, even if just for a night, but Harry’s two girlfriends were trying to give him sixteen kisses of good luck each, and he was deeply embarrassed to have been caught by Arthur already.

“Hermione? Knew I’d find you up here,” Harry said with a grin as he found Hermione at the top of the attic landing, away from the merriment and a book open on her laugh as she tried to catch her breath. His words slurred together slightly, and his cheeks were flushed. Clearly, someone had been helping the birthday boy sneak some firewhiskey. Large parties weren’t her cup of tea on a good day anyways, and after an hour she had slipped out to cool off. She grinned at a red faced Harry as he sat on the steps with her, drunk but good natured.

“Yeah, sorry. I’ll be back down soon. What are you doing up here?” she asked, closing her novel and turning to her friend. He shrugged, slipping into a more somber state, and leaned back on his elbows.

“I just needed to get away too. For a minute, it just felt too fake,” he said, more maudlin than she was used to him being. He could be angsty or contrite, yes, but it still caught her off guard. She frowned.

“What do you mean?” she inquired, and Harry’s face crashed from a happy smile into a look of dark sadness and burden.

“Being loved like that. Everyone acting like they aren’t scared out of their minds that they’ll be the next to die. Acting like I’m just Harry instead of-of some kind of ticking time bomb that’s supposed to save their asses,” he replied, voice more sad than biting. Hermione scooted closer and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, worry in her chest as she looked at the scared and bitter young man.

“Harry, you know they love you. That’s not fake at all. And even if people are scared, that isn’t your fault. It’s good to have nights like this, where we get to have a breather from the war and celebrate what’s important to us. Our friends, and family. You aren’t a bomb of any sort. You are just Harry,” she told him, trying to sound reassuring. Ron was really better with this sort of thing.

“Bullshit. I’m not loved, I’m needed,” he responded with flatly, and Hermione blinked. She played with her necklace, uncomfortable, and tried to think of a proper response.

“You can be loved and needed. They aren’t mutually exclusive. I love you, and I need you to be my friend. I need you to support me and listen to me, and to be a very caring and kind person,” she started, but Harry scoffed, cutting her off.

“Yeah, whatever. That’s bullshit and we both know it,” he grumbled, closing his eyes for a long moment and saying nothing further. Hermione couldn’t think of anything further to say. It sort of was bullshit. It was true, but it was placating, and she knew better than to try that with Harry. The two of them were incredibly similar in that regard.

“You’re right. It is. You are needed. A lot is riding on you, Harry. There’s no escaping that. But that doesn’t mean that everyone else doesn’t feel burden or responsibility here. Every day, I have to worry about you and about Voldemort, and if some noseless madman is going to kill someone I love. The Prophecy says you have to deal the killing blow, and we do need you for that, but Harry? The rest of us need to make sure you get there, and that can also be bloody terrifying,” she finally said, looking down at her hands. Harry didn’t respond for so long, she nearly thought he had passed out on the stairs.

“That’s why I like having you around, Hermione,” he finally mumbled, half asleep but with a crooked smile on his face. Hermione snorted, and stood up.

“C’mon, you drunk. Let’s go back downstairs,” she told him, helping him to his feet before leading him downstairs and back to the party. Luna easily took over, smiling gently at Hermione and thanking her for finding the birthday boy. Hermione passed him off gratefully, glad to see his mood had passed and he was back to being silly and joyous when he had a girlfriend on either side and his friends around him. She watched a moment longer, hiding in a dark corner, and slipped away before anyone noticed she had returned. She still felt utterly uncomfortable around their merriment when she hid so much from them.

Out in the hall, Hermione leaned against a wall and covered her face with her hands. She breathed in deeply, letting it out in slow huffs. She repeated the motion a number of times before lowering her hands and looking up sharply. The hair on the back of her neck had itched, and she glanced down the hall to see a hazy figure in the shadows, disillusioned but her charm revealed a crude shape from the corner of her eye.

“Professor?” she breathed, unsure, and the shape moved slightly before coming into view. Indeed, Professor Severus Snape stood in a dark corner, looking uncertain and uncomfortable. Hermione frowned at him, still bitter, and turned away.

Severus stared at her with surprise before he spoke-- he had not anticipated Hermione coming out and possibly calming herself down from a panic attack. He had been needing an Order member to pass on a message, but since it was not on a tight time restraint, had hoped to catch Lupin or Black and ruin their evenings by popping up from the shadows when they least expected it. Childish, yes, but he took his joys where he could. Hermione was nearly at the end of the hall before his voice worked of it's own accord.

“Hermione,” he called out, voice soft and whispering, nearly pleading. She stopped walking but did not turn back to him. She hated the thrall he had over her, a command that was not based in intimidation or fear or even respect. Even through her hurt, she still cared for him deeply.

“What do you want?” She spoke in a flat tone. Caring did not abate her anger, even if it had cooled in the days that passed. She looked over her shoulder at him in a glare, and found him hesitating in the corner of the hall. The dim light casted shadows across his face, but she could just see a hint of trepidation there, a nervousness that she wanted to dig her claws into.

“I have come to speak with you,” he told her, glancing at the parlor door when loud cheers burst from it. The party was still in full swing, and anyone could see them if they came out. Hermione bit her lip, considering the situation. The privacy of her room would let her yell if she wanted but… she also was not sure she wanted to be alone with him again. She could feel her heart race slightly at the thought, despite her annoyance. It always did when they were alone together in her room, far more intimate than the hall or the potions lab at school. Still, it was not a conversation she wanted overheard. Hermione sighed and nodded down the hall and lead him to her room, thinking of exactly how she wanted to lay into him. 

As soon as the door closed behind him, she decided to strike.

“How fucking dare you!” she hissed immediately, enjoying how startled he looked at her unmasked vehemence. She did not stop, pressing him against the wall as she stepped forward, finger coming up to jab his chest.

“You awful, lying, shrew of a man! I trusted you, sir! I have laid my every secret at your feet because you have asked and you have the audacity to reveal my weakness to them? What the fuck were you thinking?” Hermione yelled at him, shrieking really, and Severus blinked in shock. Since when did Hermione have such a sailor’s mouth? He watched as her tight curls fanned out, shedding off dangerous sparks, and her eyes were narrow, glittering slits. But he was looking at her, and that was enough.

Severus paused before responding to her shouting, simply appreciating that she had even granted him an audience, without begging or any tricks. Other witches had not been so kind.

“I… was not thinking. You are absolutely correct in being upset with me. I failed you,” he told her solemnly, placing a large hand over the one that was still jabbed over his heart. He grasped her hand and looked down at it, struggle clear on his face. 

“In that moment, I was so overcome with fear that I lashed out. I thought if the others knew, they could stop you from trying to save the world on your own when what you need most is protection. Hermione, if you had been caught out there, you would be dead right now. They will torture you to insanity, murder you, and have me drop you at Harry’s door as a taunt. They will make me pull every bit of information from you that I can.

“I have hidden you within my own mind. The Dark Lord knows only that Dumbledore has forced a muggleborn student onto me to ‘help’ me with the infirmary orders so that I might conduct more research. He has not looked into this, because I told him it would lend me more time to work on the poisons he wants. I… I am afraid I will not be able to hide our association if you are presented to me as a victim to destroy.”

Severus’s words were heavy in the air, his quiet admission both terrifying and breathtaking. Hermione stared at him with wide eyes, her anger evaporated. She let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, and gripped his hand in return. She was aware of the danger when she followed Harry, ready to grab him and run the second she felt an itch, but she had not considered what Snape’s role could be in her capture. Her throat tightened as she swallowed back her sudden belated fear.

“I… I’m sorry, I’ll be more careful,” she mumbled, looking down. She felt more ashamed than before, but his fingers caught her chin and lifted her gaze back to his. Severus was staring at her with amazement in his dark eyes, his look intense. Hermione found herself glued to the spot, and hyper aware of their closeness. She sucked in a sudden breath, caught in the strength of the moment.

If Severus would lean down, just a tilt, his lips would brush against hers. Hermione desperately wanted them to, but was terrified at the same time. Severus let out a shuddering breath, and moved his hand to cup the side of her face.

“You nearly died once, Hermione. I don’t know what I would do if you were to leave me,” he admitted in the barest whisper. The anguish Hermione saw in his eyes sealed her decision, and as her heart fluttered warmly, she leaned forward on her tiptoes. Her lips pressed against his quickly, more firm than a peck but still soft. She pulled away just as quickly. Her face was a deep red, her embarrassment winning out over her emotional reaction. Before she could apologize, Severus pulled her closer against him and crashed his lips onto hers, his hand cradling the back of her head.

His lips were so much softer than she expected, and more full than they looked. His kiss was needy but tender, a moment cherished as it happened. She thought he tasted like bitter black coffee and spearmint and something that was purely Severus. It was everything she had dreamed about and denied herself but somehow better. She felt completely secure in his arms, but all too soon he pulled away. They looked at each other with panting breaths, still entangled, but dared not speak.

Hermione realized that she had backed him against the wall earlier, and moved to take a step away and give him space. She was surprised and secretly relieved when Snape’s hand remained on hers, preventing her from leaving. He also looked surprised by his own action, but did not drop her hand.

“I should apologize for taking advan--” Severus began, and Hermione kissed him a third time, just a quick peck. She pulled away with a devilish grin while he blinked at her, wide eyed.

“Don’t you dare apologize for that. I kissed you first,” she told him, raising a brow when he opened his mouth to protest. Amazingly, he quirked a grin instead. The sight of him smiling warmed her to her soul, a rare and blessed moment. He nodded his acquiescence. 

 

“As you wish… Hermione,” he murmured instead, and she felt warmth flush over her chest. She was surprised when he held up his hand and her necklace was held in his fingers-- she hadn’t felt him slip it off when he had kissed her.

“I do ask that you pardon me for this, however. I… did not wish to kiss your mask,” he said delicately. In truth, he did not want to do anything further with her as a teenager. The thought made him ill, even knowing she was actually a legal adult in both the wizarding and muggle worlds. She nodded, understanding, and took the necklace from him and set it aside.

A silence fell between them again, only slightly uncomfortable and awkward. The wind had quite been taken out of Hermione’s sails regarding Severus telling everyone about her condition, and something new had replaced that feeling. All of her self imposed doubt and denial had come crashing down, and an entirely new anxiety came up. They had kissed each other, it was wonderful, but where did that leave them? She did not think Severus would venture to answer that question first-- he was a master of patience and waiting for the other to talk first, to let him respond instead of lead.

“I don’t expect anything to change,” she told him, casting her eyes downward. She felt him look at her, even with her necklace off, and she glanced up. He was apprehensive and entirely out of his element, and she wasn’t sure how to help beyond being upfront.

“That is… good. I wouldn’t know how to change,” he said haltingly, brows furrowing. Hermione stifled a giggle.

“I’m still going to be your student, and I expect just as harsh grading as ever. Though, you won’t be teaching Potions anymore, are you?” Hermione asked, and he blinked in surprise after a small look of offense.

“How did you find that out?” he asked, and Hermione smirked, nodding to the notebook that sat on her night table.

“My meticulous research paid off-- Harry told us Slughorn is returning. If he was the Potions professor before, then it stood to reason he would be again. Are you able to tell me why?” she asked, her voice dropping to a tentative whisper. Severus frowned, looking at her with that same torn expression he often had while dealing with her.

“I have reason to believe that I will not be returning to Hogwarts after this year,” he admitted. Hermione breathed in sharply, her eyes bright with concern. Something clicked into place in her mind, and she blinked.

“Is it… is it because of what you’ve been asked to do?” she whispered, afraid of the answer. Severus only nodded, unable to speak. The task still filled him with virulent emotions, each competing for his attention. Shame and fear were winning out.

“Can you… tell me any more about it?” she asked tentatively. His lips pressed together in a firm line, swallowing down all he wanted to say.

“I, unfortunately, cannot. It is not only my burden to bear. All I can ask is for you to trust me. I… realize that is quite a lot to ask for,” he told her, his expression as close to begging as it would ever get. She swallowed a lump in her throat.

“Of course, Severus. I won’t press you, just know that I will listen should you need it,” she told him, and they locked eyes. He passed her a grateful look that was shadowed with remorse. He gently brushed a lock of hair from her face, letting the curl tumble from his fingers. She blushed at the gentle and loving gesture.

“Everything is changing, isn’t it? She heard herself ask, and he gave her the ghost of a sad smile in return. 

“I’m afraid it is,” he replied, voice a low grumble. She licked her lips and he watched the motion intently. He cleared his throat and closed his eyes. Hermione felt the shift of tension, and braced herself as his eyes reopened, full of regret and sadness even as they were coldly distant.

“This cannot continue, Miss Granger. Not at school. Not while… I have these obligations,” he finally said, speaking in his carefully neutral tone. Hermione expected no less, and nodded even as her eyes began to sting with a fresh rush of tears. Her throat closed up, and she pushed all her sorrow down and behind a wall until she was able to breathe clearly and blinked the wetness from her eyes.

“Of course sir. I would expect nothing else,” she told him, giving him a forced half smile. Her heart clenched painfully in her chest but she knew he was right. Even with her legal age, he was still her professor, and there was still a war. He gave a curt nod, nearly reached a hand towards her, then lowered his arm again and stepped to her door.

“Professor?” Hermione called as he put his hand on the knob, and Severus looked over his shoulder. “I’m not going to forget this. As soon as that bastard is dead and I’m out of school, I’ll be at your door.”

Severus smirked, even as his heart beat rapidly against his ribs.

“I’m sure you will, Miss Granger,” he told her and left the room, leaving Hermione grinning at his back even as the tears she couldn’t repress streaked down her face. He passed by the parlor and was nearly to the stairs when he felt he was not alone.

Quite suddenly, one of the Weasley twins was in front of him. He presumed Fred, as that was the vile young man that had been so… forward with Hermione. He frowned deeply, but Fred stared him down regardless of the slight tremble in his arms.

“What do you want?” Severus asked, tired and defeated. His mind and heart were still with the witch he had just left. Besides, he never much cared for the opinions of any of the Weasley children and thought only Hermione or perhaps Harry was brave enough, or foolish enough, to confront him. From Fred’s determined gaze, clearly not.

“I want you to stop fucking around with Hermione,” Fred said bluntly, staring Snape down from his shorter stature. Snape gave him a blank look and paused before answering.

“I am quite unsure what you mean, Mr. Weasley,” he said finally. Refusing outright would be foolish, but sometimes playing dumb was the smarter move. It tended to make his attackers spell out their motives, and let him be aware of what they knew. As predicted, Fred fell for it and took a step forward, probably intending to be intimidating, and glared.

“Look, we both know how she feels about you, so don’t even try that. You’re a professor, quit leading her on, or messing around, or whatever it is you’re doing,” Fred accused, arms crossed and feet firmly planted. He resembled his mother more in that moment, all defensive anger and assuming the truth of the matter. It was the only trait he did not care for in Molly, and he damn sure didn’t appreciate it in her troublemaking son.

“I cannot presume anything regarding Miss Granger or her feelings,” he sneered, still more than a little tender about the witch in question. “Nor have I done anything in her capacity of professor that may have encouraged such.”

“You’re good at twisting her around your finger, but I know better. She’s not even of age yet,” Fred accused, disgust clear on his face. Snape bit his tongue, choosing instead to look at Fred with an expression of boredom.

“You don’t say? Then it is extremely good that I am in no way interested in pursuing a student, isn’t it?” he said baldly, raising a challenging eyebrow. Truly, hadn’t he and Hermione just covered that themselves? Fred scoffed.

“So you say. I may not be at school any longer, but I’ll still be keeping an eye on her. If you put one toe out of line, I’ll know,” he promised, pointing at Snape and placing his other hand on his hip. It took all Severus had not to burst out laughing at the erstwhile young man, despite his still potent jealousy. Instead, he maintained his bored look.

“...You do that,” he said dismissively before he continued down the hall, bypassing Fred and brushing him off entirely. He could feel the younger man’s eyes on his back as he retreated back down the stairs and to the unoccupied kitchen. He would send Kreacher to fetch an Order member in a short while-- he had no desire to be near any of the party anymore, even for his bitter plans.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all, sorry for the late update. Life always finds a way to be frantic. I had caught up with publishing what I had already written, and have slowly been working through the next few chapters and editing them, which will start being published again. Thank you for your patience, and enjoy!

“Hermione?” Ginny asked as she knocked on Hermione’s open door. The witch in question sat at her desk, her scrolls of homework neatly stacked next to her as she double checked each one. She glanced up, setting down her quill and grinning.

Over the summer, she had grown very fond of the youngest Weasley, particularly because she was the one who acted the least weird around her in their age group. Harry was torn between arguing with her and still being guilt ridden over her injuries, and Ron had learned her secrets. Even if he had said he accepted her and would still love her, he had been distant ever since. Hermione tried not to dwell on that-- so long as he didn’t tell anyone, he could be as distant as he wanted.

“What’s up, Gin?” Hermione asked as Ginny closed the door behind her. The pretty redhead approached, an odd look on her face.

“So, what’s going on with you and my brother?” she asked, and Hermione scoffed.

“Which one?” she asked, raising a brow. 

“Well, that question worries me, but I meant Ron,” Ginny clarified, and Hermione sighed. Both with relief, and with sadness. Ginny plopped herself down on Hermione’s bed, crossing her legs and looking at her friend thoughtfully.

“Why have you been avoiding each other?” She asked bluntly, staring Hermione down. Good god, she would never get used to the Weasley’s and their ability to cut right to the heart of the matter. For her credit, Hermione didn’t flinch as she faced the younger woman faced her.

“I don’t think I’ve been really trying to avoid Ron… We discussed a few things and I think he just needs space to process,” Hermione explained, shrugging and trying to look unaffected about the matter. She honestly hadn’t tried to avoid Ron, but he also had not tried seeking her out. She wanted to give him time and distance to come to terms with her revelations, even if every moment meant more anxiety than she’d ever had.

“What about? I mean, usually the three of you are pretty inseparable,” Ginny pried, narrowing her eyes. Hermione resisted rolling her own. 

“He asked me again about Professor Snape, so I told him my feelings on the matter. Of course, he still thinks Professor Snape is using my crush on him to try to worm his way closer to me, but I really don’t think he would do anything untoward, at least… so long as I’m a student,” Hermione explained. 

“Oh. Well then I’ll tell him to quit being such a prat!” Ginny offered, moving to get off the bed, but Hermione shook her head.

“Absolutely not! He really doesn’t need to be confronted about this… I’m sure it was a lot for him to take in, even if it was me. I mean, you can’t really picture me with someone close to my age, can you?” Hermione tried to diffuse the situation that had suddenly grown out of hand. Ginny sat back down to consider the question.

“Mmm, I suppose not. The closest I could ever see was Fred, but… I don’t think there was really any chemistry there, to be honest. You’re a slow burn kind of girl, he’s more of an explosion,” Ginny commented, tilting her head as she thought about it. Hermione was inclined to agree, particularly after she experienced real chemistry with Severus.

“Ron just… He cares a lot about me, he’s just worried is all,” she further explained. She shrugged to herself, feeling bad that she was probably right on the mark. Ginny at least seemed to accept that explanation. 

“I suppose so… But I would think he would come around by now. It’s been weeks! I mean, if he could accept that Harry and Luna and I are all dating each other, I would think he could accept you having a regrettable crush on a teacher.” Ginny thought out loud, winking at Hermione to show she was only joking. Hermione shrugged, guilt over throwing Ron under the bus layering over all that she already had.

“He’s allowed to have limits. Besides, Professor Snape has been the cause of a lot of anger for most everyone, at least in Gryffindor. Particularly to Harry and Ron. I’ll probably get over it when we’re back in class-- he’ll be back to being everyone’s least favorite professor again,” Hermione responded, a little grim at the fact, particularly since she had realized Severus would be teaching DADA, the collective favorite subject of Gryffindor, or at least a majority of her friends. Ginny scrunched up her face.

“Pft, isn’t that the truth?” she chuckled, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Though, I think he might be teaching Defense this year. Ron agrees with me, but we don’t know why Dumbledore would put him in that position… By the end of the year, he won’t be teaching it anymore,” Hermione questioned, throwing Ginny off. The redhead shook her head as she processed what her friend told her. Hermione knew that it was not a question anymore, but a fact that the professor had confirmed himself.

“What?! Why?” she asked, sitting up straight and looking alarmed. Hermione’s face grew tense as she became serious. 

“The professor that Harry talked to, that Dumbledore is pulling out of retirement… He was the old potions professor. We all know Professor Snape has been wanting to teach Defense since he first applied to Hogwarts, but the position is cursed. There is no telling what their strategy is with that, but it cannot be good,” Hermione explained, brows furrowed and eyes grim. Ginny stared at the floor, thinking about what she was told.

“That seems… weird. You would think Dumbledore would like to keep Snape around, he’s his spy!” Ginny sputtered, standing so she could pace. Hermione watched her quick back and forth with some amusement-- it was a habit she had picked up from Harry.

“There’s no telling what they’ve got planned. All I know is that we need to be just as on guard this year as before-- there won’t be the same level of ministry interference but it could be worse. Voldemort isn’t likely to take his defeat at the Ministry lightly, and he may be planning a strike to Hogwarts for it,” Hermione continued, speaking as she thought. She touched her journal instinctively, though Severus had made no attempts at writing to her through it during the summer. She hadn’t tried, either-- she didn’t want to be a distraction, and during the summer it felt too… personal. There was no need to pass messages for meetings when they were not working around classes, but she still missed talking to him, especially after their last exchange.

“You’re probably right. You and Ron have always been better about thinking of that sort of thing. Big picture thinking, you know? I’m just glad to have you both on our side,” Ginny mused, shrugging off the seriousness of the conversation with a shudder. The flash of worry in her eyes reminded Hermione that she was still just fifteen, and the war was new and terrifying.

“Come on, let’s go see if the boys have eaten yet,” Hermione said, standing and holding out a hand to Ginny. Her friend took her hand gratefully, glad to leave the serious air of the room, and thoroughly distracted from worrying about Ron’s distance from a close friend.

\--

It felt surreal to stand on Platform 9 and 3/4s to go to their sixth year at Hogwarts. There were less people than normal crowding around the train, and the elder wix looked paranoid and skittish. Not that Hermione blamed them, really. Voldemort was now out in the open, and attacked a government building. What was to stop him from attacking a school?

Hermione piled quickly into a compartment with her friends, hurried along by Mrs. Weasley and orders from the Order. It was cramped between the six of them, nearly adults, but it was cozy and familiar. Ron had even elected to sit next to Hermione, and she was grateful for the warmth of his leg against her own. He had been doing slowly better around her, no longer finding an excuse to leave the room or somewhat obviously not looking in her direction. They were easing into the same friendship they had known for years, and Hermione was relieved.

She was not grateful for Harry’s resurgence of his Death Eater Draco theory. It irked her more than she would admit that he was being so stubborn about it, but as big as a toe rag as he was, Hermione couldn't picture Draco being competent and evil enough to become a Death Eater. She also trusted that Severus hadn’t been lying to them about the lack of an initiation ceremony for the younger Slytherin-- he had not exhibited any of his normal signs for when he lied, and she felt that he would have revealed that information if he had it.

Hermione was saved from the annoyance of listening to Harry rant again by, oddly enough, Professor Slughorn. He was not at all what she expected for Professor Snape’s mentor. The wizard was quite old and even more rotund, and reminded her of a dandy gentleman with his manner of dress and speaking.

“Harry, my boy! Glad to have found you! I've started a meeting of the old Slug Club, come join! Ah, is that the young Miss Lovegood? I remember your mother well, terrible tragedy what happened to her… come along as well. And Mr. Longbottom! I hear you are most proficient with Herbology, just like your father. Come along, then,” he demanded jovially.

Harry blinked rapidly at him before turning to his friends. Slughorn glanced over Hermione and the Weasley's without recognition or at least without being impressed. Hermione went rigid from the insult, but Harry mouthed an apology to her and reluctantly left with Neville and Luna, his duty to Dumbledore superseding his discomfort.

“Well, he’s an idiot,” Ron said simply after the door closed. Hermione was torn between her knee jerk reaction to admonish him for being rude to a teacher and ferocious agreement. In the end, she only gave a sharp nod and scoff of agreement before turning back to the window with a scowl. The sting of being lesser for the circumstances of her birth never eased, no matter how slight. If Slughorn knew anything about the school, he would have known that Hermione Granger was the witch to recruit-- wasn’t she the brightest witch of her age? 

“At least we have more room, now. I love you all but I wish we could just expand these compartments,” Ginny shrugged, not nearly as insulted as Hermione, or at least more resigned to it. She and Ron began chatting while Hermione continued to stare out the window. If she kept her scowl and her stare, she reasoned with herself, she wouldn’t cry like some little Firstie missing home. It wasn’t even fully that Slughorn, fool that he was, had glanced over her without any thought or recognition-- it was the approaching school and the very real fear that she was not recovered enough to be doing magic for any length of time.

She had only attempted magic once during the summer, without thinking. And it had cost her in terms of pain and recovery. Hermione knew Madame Pomfrey would check her over and tutter and tell her that she wasn’t allowed to even try to use magic again yet, and she would fall behind in class with no ability to complete practical assignments. Worse still, everyone would know she really was just a fake witch all along, a lucky Muggle who made it work until challenged. Perhaps Slughorn had been right in looking her over...

“Hermione? You’ve gone pale,” Ron said, touching Hermione’s shoulder with concern and startling badly when she flinched and turned her wand on him instinctively-- she’d been practicing her reaction time since she could not practice spells. Her wand lowered just as quickly, and not for the first or last time, Ron was very grateful Hermione was his friend and not his enemy, her crimes be damned.

“What? Oh… I’m just worried,” she said offhandedly, blinking rapidly and tucking her hands beneath her legs to hide their shaking. They had gotten much closer to the castle since she had began her revery, and suddenly she felt like her time had run out. Ginny, too, was looking at her with furrowed brows and wide eyes, categorically going over each of Hermione’s giveaways. Not that she was really trying to hide them that hard.

“Is it about… your condition?” Ron asked very quietly, and Hermione nodded sharply just the once, uncomfortable that he had mentioned it even as it consumed her thoughts. Acknowledging it outside of her head made it real-- she could worry over anything in her mind and it could never come to pass, but when Ron looked at her with that hint of sadness and Ginny just looked away she wanted to pull her hair out and scream. 

“It’ll be fine. I’ll meet with Madame Pomfrey after dinner and she’ll give me the all clear,” Hermione told them in a reassuring tone, though if it was meant for them or herself was unclear. Regardless, the siblings exchanged a look but did not press her on it. They quickly dressed, Ron leaving the compartment to give them privacy first. Out in the small corridor of the train, Hermione felt an odd restlessness and excused herself from Ginny with something muttered about doing rounds. Of course, on top of everything, she was still a prefect.

Since the castle was nearly upon them, there was an excited energy among the train. First years to seventh were ready to see Hogwarts, for the first or last time. Hermione encountered no troubles as she patrolled quickly, though she did wrinkle her nose with distaste when she popped her head into what turned out to be Slughorn’s compartment. It stunk of his cigar and everyone within looked at her with quiet desperation-- and Harry was missing. A quick, fearful look to Luna and Neville revealed they were just as worried. Hermione had not seen Harry at all on her walk down the train, and she huffed with frustration. If he was under his cloak, she would never catch him. Annoyed, she went back to Ron and Ginny. Harry could just deal with his consequences alone.


	25. Chapter 25

When Harry failed to show up at the carriage with Luna and Neville, Hermione felt her blood run cold. Something bad had happened, she knew, but she just couldn’t tell what. Ron and Ginny were worried as well.

“What do you mean he left?” Ginny asked, and Luna gently took her hand to calm her. It worked marginally well, and the redhead managed to not start yelling.

“He said he needed to check something and slipped out. I assumed he had just met back up with you instead of coming back-- that was an incredibly boring compartment,” Luna explained, the least concerned of them. Well, at least outwardly. Hermione could see the faint tensity to her eyes, the way her hand did not leave Ginny’s. She was sure only Ginny noticed, for she wrapped her arm around the blonde.

“You lot go ahead. I’ll check over the train,” Hermione heard herself say, and Ron gave her a look for the first time in a long while that she was being quite stupid.

“Absolutely not, you go on ahead. Neville and I can check the train,” he told her, his raised brow entirely too reminiscent of Molly to bear any argument about it. Besides, Hermione thought sourly, he was right. She was still not supposed to use magic, and if there were any danger left on the train, she would be at a serious disadvantage. She opened her mouth anyway, finding it incredibly difficult to not be the one to fix everything, and Ron grabbed her shoulders.

“Trust me, Hermione,” he said as if he read her thoughts, his blue eyes serious. She nodded reluctantly and stepped closer to Ginny and Luna, both of whom were watching the exchange with some curiosity. Luna reached out and took Hermione’s hand as well. The Ravenclaw’s slim fingers and palm were soft and reassuring. Sometimes, Hermione had the oddest feeling that Luna was chamomile tea personified.

“We’ll meet up back at the Great Hall, don’t wait for us. We’ll be fine,” Neville told them, and the girls all got in the carriage after Luna patted the air in front of it and they watched, uncomfortable but not enough to ask. The ride up was uncomfortably silent, the trio all worried about Harry and two quite worried about Hermione as well.

“Are you still mad at Professor Snape?” Luna asked, seemingly out of the blue. Hermione blinked rapidly as the question cut through the stale tension. Ginny looked between her girlfriend and her regular friend, flabbergasted. She didn’t expect that question out of Luna, or the embarrassed look with which Hermione considered it.

“I… No,” Hermione said slowly, feeling that familiar ache. No, she wasn’t angry, but there was the advent of their kisses to consider. She was not sure how well she could go through the year and stay distant from Snape while also being his apprentice. Luna smiled gently, nodding to herself.

“I figured as much,” Luna said with a sage nod. A lock of blonde hair fell off her shoulder, and Hermione’s eye followed it as she considered the last she had seen Severus. Her mind struggled to call him anything but his given name. His concern and explanation had completely erased the anger she’d had, and had touched her to her core. Despite her affections, and his devotion to her health, Hermione had been in denial about how Severus himself felt. She knew she could not be upset after seeing how distressed he had been.

She also knew that if she hadn’t gone off on her own, mirroring Harry’s foolhardiness, that Severus never would have needed to tell anyone about her condition. She felt sheepish and hypocritical for doing the exact thing Harry had done, and being mad at him for it. At least she could admit that it had been wrong, though.

“Why is that?” she replied after a few moments of consideration, and she could have sworn she saw a twinkle in Luna’s eye the same as Dumbledore had when you had answered a question you hadn’t realized they asked. 

“Because he wasn’t trying to be malicious,” she said, and Hermione blinked, her cheeks turning red. Luna just smiled mysteriously, and Hermione made a mental note to figure out exactly what the blonde knew. Ginny looked between the two, a little annoyed that there seemed to be a secret conversation underlying it, and crossed her arms.

“You’re too forgiving. I would be livid if Harry revealed my biggest weakness to everyone,” Ginny sniffed, and Hermione gave her an odd look, as though she had said something both funny yet upsetting. Hermione didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or cry. Ginny would be as bad as Harry or worse when she finally told everyone her secrets. Her magical detriment was nowhere near the worst of it.

“I was, at first, but I’ve been thinking on it and I’m still going to be his apprentice, so I can be civil,” Hermione said diplomatically. “Besides, I think Luna is right. He wasn’t trying to be nasty.”

“Oh, we’re here,” Luna announced, and Hermione was torn between emotions at seeing the castle now just a walk away. She exited the carriage and waited on Luna to finish thanking the invisible thing that pulled them before the three started up towards the school. Ron and Neville approached, annoyed and worried, and no visible Harry.

“We didn’t find him, but we did find Snape before we could really look,” Neville explained, looking more worried while Ron was flat out distressed. The redhead wrinkled his nose. Hermione fought a gasp and made herself stay focused instead of searching the crowd around them for a sign of her professor.

“I don’t know what Harry’s playing at, but I might just hex him before the day is done for running off,” he promised, getting an uneasy chuckle from the others. They wanted to be humorous, but it was hard when their central figure was missing. Luna was the one who convinced them to go up to the Great Hall and wait for a word. If anything went truly wrong, Professors McGonagall or Dumbledore would tell them. Hermione wished she had that level of faith.

They made it to the meal but seeing the other Gryffindors just made Hermione anxious, as uncomfortable and stressed as she was. Snape was missing from the head table, and Harry from her side. The other professors had a small amount of concern etched on their faces, but McGonagall led in the first years regardless, her head held high and proud. 

With the distraction of the first year students being sorted, Hermione nearly missed a side door opening and Snape entering and shoving something, or someone ahead of him. He leaned in and whispered to the air, and took his seat without looking around. Moments later, Harry was at the table next to her, bundling up his invisibility cloak and looking more furious than she had seen him since he was banned from Quidditch-- thankfully, a ban lifted following the toad’s departure.

“Harry, what the--” Ron started, but Harry shook his head aggressively. There was still dried blood on his robe, though his face had been cleaned. By the rawness of his skin, Hermione guessed magically. His glasses also looked freshly broken, and there was a start of a bruise on his left eye. He stubbornly looked out at the fresh students, ignoring his friends as they tried to ask him what had happened.

Hermione had half a guess. He’d likely gone poking his nose where it didn’t belong, probably filled with Slytherins, or at least one important one, and gotten caught. She was patient enough for him to explain himself later, as he often put off telling his friends what was important until they were alone. It just gave her time to think of how exactly she would lay into him.

McGonagall began to call out the names of the new students, placing them on a stool and the Sorting Hat on their head. Hermione was startled to realize that she had entirely missed the Sorting Hat’s song, but if she really wanted to know, Luna would give her the footnotes later. There was a smaller batch of firsties than before, the smallest Hermione had seen. It was really no surprise considering that the war was now openly acknowledged.

She politely clapped for every house, resolutely keeping her eyes on McGonagall and not just to her left, where Professor Snape sat behind her. When the last student was sorted into Hufflepuff, an excited young man named Raul Zaman, McGonagall regained her seat and Dumbledore stood, greeting everyone with a easy smile that Hermione couldn’t see as being true.

“I am pleased to announce a change in staff this year. We welcome the return of Horace Slughorn as our potions professor! But worry not, Professor Snape is still here, as our newest Defense Against the Dark Arts professor!” Dumbledore announced, happily ignoring the protest at Professor Snape’’s new position. Hermione finally looked directly at him, and found a nasty sneer on his face, a horrid smile, as if he basked in the hatred. Harry slammed a hand on the table next to her, startling her. She knew Ginny had already approached him with the theory, but it appeared Harry hadn’t wanted to believe it.

“That bastard…!” he hissed, furious, and Hermione flinched. Harry would never think that he had a great boon in who was teaching him that year-- likely one of the most qualified they could have, outside of Lupin. Pointedly, Hermione clapped quietly. She could tell when everyone looked at her like an idiot, even the Slytherins as they applauded themselves. It was the same reaction she would give any new professor, but she took on a haughty look regardless.

Dumbledore continued as if no one had objected what he was saying, reminding everyone of the dangers of the forest and the standard rules before his face went grave and his eyes serious. Everyone in the room straightened up at the change in expression, except for Harry and, across the room, Draco. The Slytherin stared sullenly at the table, looking as terrible as he had in Diagon Alley, if not worse. There was a tensity and stress about him that made him seem frayed and nearly broken. Hermione was alarmed and nearly concerned for him, despite their animosity.

She ignored everything else the Headmaster had said, and nearly hadn’t noticed as the feast was set out on the table. She and her friends uneasily filled their plates among the rest of the cheery Gryffindors, feeling out of place and unusually sober in place of their normal new school year joy. 

“Let’s go,” Harry ordered as soon as they were dismissed, but Hermione gently, nearly timidly, pulled on his sleeve. Harry looked at her, impatient and frustrated.

“I have to see Madam Pomfrey,” Hermione explained, and Harry’s face softened at that. She could see him trying to think of the best way to tell everyone, and she bit her lip, not wanting to be a bother.

“I’ll catch up with you as soon as I can, okay? Wait for me in the Room of Requirement, I’ll be there soon,” she offered, and Harry nodded.

They left as soon as they could, Luna joining up with them as naturally as a stream joins a river. People had stopped questioning the Ravenclaw’s presence in Gryffindor Tower rather quickly after she began dating the two most popular members of the house. Hermione knew her own house was still less than accommodating, and had considered privately speaking with the heads of house to resolve that, but it worked quietly on its own.

Madame Pomfrey was annoyed at Hermione showing up so late to her check in, but when she mentioned Harry, the mediwitch calmed somewhat. She knew Harry Potter was a force of nature, appointments be damned around him.

“Just lay over here, dear, I’ll check you over,” Madame Pomfrey instructed, and Hermione did as she was told. She tried like hell to calm her nerves as the wand passed over her, revealing her status to the mediwitch. From her frown and tuttering, the prognosis was far from good. She braced herself for bad news, her hands clinging to her robes and wand.

“Miss Granger, it isn’t good,” Madame Pomfrey said sternly, her frown revealing that she knew that Hermione had been using magic. Still, she gave her a sympathetic twitch of the lips.

“You’re nearly there. I suspect you didn’t fully listen to my advice, or we may be in the clear here. Let me see something. Levitate your pillow for me,” Madame Pomfrey instructed, and Hermione eyed her warily before nodding and did as instructed. As she did, Madame Pomfrey monitored her magical core with a revealing spell. Hermione wasn’t familiar, but watched the colors anyway as they correspond to her physical feelings.

As the pillow lifted lightly into the air, there was a light itch and the green color fragmented with purple. Pomfrey nodded at her to maintain the spell, and the itch increased with the effort and with it, the purple. Red seeped in as the first aches of pain started, and Madame Pomfrey had her cancel the spell, the pillow landing with a light sound.

“As I suspected. I will allow you to cast only spells that need not be maintained, for now. Short bursts as needed, if you will. But the moment you feel any pain at all, cancel it. And no more than a few times a day. Really, no more than three spells if you can manage. You won’t be casting every day in class, and that will help. No trying outside of class-- you really need to limit it. Come back in two weeks for another check, or if it starts to hurt you again,” Madame Pomfrey instructed, wagging a finger with authority. Hermione brightened so considerably that Pomfrey nearly thought she would actually glow. 

“Of course Madame Pomfrey!” Hermione spoke through a grin wide enough to nearly split her face. The mediwitch couldn’t help a smile of her own. She was nowhere near healed but it was a victory nonetheless. 

“Alright, you go off to your dorm. And trust that I’ll know if you push yourself beyond what I’ve said, Miss Granger,” Madame Pomfrey told her, one brow raised knowingly. However, she knew that Hermione was trustworthy and more often than not followed authority as if her life depended on it. Since her magic, in that case, did depend on Madame Pomfrey’s authority, she could trust Hermione to obey her every word.

Hermione quickly made her way to the seventh floor and into the Room of Requirement, pleased to see her friends there waiting for her. Harry looked as agitated as ever, pacing in quick loops in the middle of the room. Ginny and Luna sat together on a plush loveseat and Neville and Ron were next to each other across from them on a cozy looking couch, with a space saved for Hermione. Ron looked up at her with a gentle smile and rose to greet her.

“Hermione! What did she say?” he asked, and Hermione grinned brightly, hugging him tight. It was a pleasant ease into their previous closeness, one she appreciated deeply.

“I’m on the mend, at least. I’m not being given the all clear, but I can at least somewhat practice magic again. Nothing too strenuous, but…” she explained, and her friends all matched her relief. The moment was short lived, though, as Harry decided to lay out exactly what had agitated him.

“Malfoy broke my fucking nose,” he announced without any preamble, making Hermione blink rapidly at him, mouth agape, while everyone else began at once to yell. She recovered quickly, narrowing her eyes, already breaking down what had happened mentally before Harry explained. As she thought, he had gone snooping and got caught by Malfoy when he tried to eavesdrop, and Malfoy had punched him and left him covered by his cloak after the train was unboarded. Snape had been the one to find him with a locator spell, and had already given him detention over it, and Harry was positive Draco would see no recourse.

“Well, how could he if no one saw you there with him? If you’re the only witness, then how can anyone tell Malfoy off?” Ron asked, crossing his arms and refusing to back down from an irate Harry. 

“Harry, Malfoy shouldn’t have punched you but you shouldn’t have tried to spy on him either,” Hermione tried, and Harry turned to her with a darkness to his green eyes. She stared at him blankly, refusing to let her worry over his anger show through.

“Just because you like Slytherins doesn’t mean they can do no wrong,” Harry sneered, and Hermione paused, caught off guard by the ridiculous statement. Neville and Ron wore similar looks of surprise, and Luna merely tilted her head.

“Harry, what do you mean?” she asked gently, touching his arm and giving him a stare. Harry calmed down slightly, but maintained his rigid stance.

“I mean she’s always defending them! Hermione always tells us off for even hinting that Snape did something bad, and even though Malfoy has been an evil cockroach for years to her, she still won’t even consider the slightest possibility that he’s up to no good. That’s what I mean,” he ranted, gesturing at Hermione but speaking as if she wasn’t there.

“Just because I’m trying to see the best in people doesn’t mean I don’t see when they do wrong. Of course I think Malfoy is vile and horrible-- but he isn’t a Death Eater and you shouldn’t have tried to spy on him. Even if he was, what would you do about it? Leave it alone, Harry. Death Eater or not, Draco can still hurt you far worse than a broken nose. You’re lucky he didn’t take your cloak,” Hermione defended herself. She stepped up to Harry, bossy and intimidating, and stopped short of shoving him, the wind leaving her sails.

“When are you going to learn that you aren’t invincible?” she asked, face full of concern. Harry flinched and frowned, nearly a snarl. Hermione startled at that look even before he spoke.

“When are you going to learn you aren’t always right? Don’t act like you give a damn about me, when you’re just being an insufferable know-it-all,” he retorted, and Hermione took a step back as if he had struck her. She heard her friends gasp at the harshness of his tone, and Harry even looked surprised by what he said.

“At least I’ll admit it when I am wrong! Don't think you can keep saying whatever you want to me and that I’ll stay around,” she countered before storming out. Fuck her for being concerned, right? She felt the stinging in her heart from his cruel words. She tried so hard with him. Did he care at all about what she was going through? Unsure about her magical ability, worried about the war and what the school year may bring. No, he just had to run off and get in trouble all over again. It was an average start to the year, really.

Hermione stopped short in a hallway halfway when her necklace made the back of her neck itch. She scanned the area around her, and heard a scuff of shoes behind her. She turned and stared down the hall, wand clutched tightly in a fist, waiting for whoever it was to reveal themself. She half anticipated Severus Snape to turn the hall, and was nervous when Draco Malfoy came into view instead.

He stared at her with some trepidation, and she forced herself to stand firm and tall. Draco did not take any steps closer, likely in keeping memory of her last school interaction. She was glad he hadn’t forgotten that lesson, though part of her was still a little sad that it had come to that at all. She had thought they had made some odd sort of… progress. Now, she was as unsure as ever.

“Tell Potter to stay out of my business,” he told her from a few yards away, and Hermione took a step closer. He didn’t move, but his eyes flashed briefly with fear. She moved slower, and tilted her head at him.

“What business do you have?” she found herself asking. It wasn’t entirely what she meant to say to him, especially after finding out he had punched her friend. She didn’t backtrack, though, and let the question hang in the air. Draco glared at her, lips pressed tight while his nostrils flared.

“None that concerns any of you,” he shot back, and Hermione stopped, and looked at him with curious eyes. He was not being nearly as nasty as he had been before, and she was curious about that side of him. He regarded her warily, uncomfortable in her sight but not leaving quite yet. She pressed on, using that advantage.

“Draco, I’m not your friend,” she said softly, and his eyes shot up to her face, surprised at her statement. She held up a hand to show she wasn’t finished. “We’ve never been anything but enemies. But… I don’t think anything is ever set in stone.”

Malfoy blinked, confused by her words and even more confused that she had taken another step closer. She was so close that he could reach out and touch her if he raised his arm, not that he dared. He didn’t retreat but leaned back cautiously.

“You know where to find me, if you need to,” she told him, her eyes boring into his, before she turned with a casual shrug. She did not trust him for a second, really, but she knew he would be caught off guard enough to give her time to get ahead. To her surprise, he didn’t follow. She let out a great shudder once she left his line of sight, still nauseated and afraid around him. But more than that, she knew he was on the precipice of something much larger than him, and he was scared. 

Hermione could see no reason for Draco Malfoy to have sought her out without needing to, and without making any threats to her. It was a vulnerability, a large one, and she didn’t know what he was playing at. Her mind immediately went to Severus, a want to tell him the situation, get his insight, but she stomped it out. One step at a time.

\--

Classes began on shaky footing. Hermione was able to cast magic, yes, but not nearly at the level she wished, and the attempts left her feeling irritated and fatigued. It was not at all helped by the animosity she was feeling towards her best friend. 

Harry had refused to apologize, though he still gave her guilty looks, and Hermione was not about to sit and wait for it while moping. Not anymore. She was grateful, at least, that her friends were on her side. Ginny had even confided that she was worried about his anger over it, and his growing obsession with Draco-- it was making Harry prideful and prone to lashing out at everyone.

Hermione decided, for once, to not focus on Harry. Oh, she would keep an eye on him from afar, watching him on the map and monitoring him through their friends, but she didn't want to put in the effort to mollify him. He had his girlfriends, and Ron and Neville for that. Instead, she focused on her studies.

Defense Against the Dark Arts had never been Hermione’s favorite class, largely due to the wild variation of teaching style within in. She preferred Potions and Transfiguration, and with them the strict but often harsh teaching of Professors Snape and McGonagall. Now, one of her favorite professors was taking his hand at the subject, and Hermione was enthralled.

It was obvious from the first moment she stepped in the classroom that Professor Snape had a deep and profound respect and fascination with the Dark Arts. The room, previously brightly lit by the tall windows or numerous candle fixtures dangling from the stone ceiling, was shrouded in black cloth and only a few candles were lit. It was even creepier than the potions lab in the dungeons, particularly since Slughorn had modified the lab to be more open and light, though Hermione thought it was less safe. Images of the victims of curses adorned the walls, silently shrieking and writhing under the effects. 

There was also the man himself as he stood hidden in the back of the room. Hermione’s charm was the only alert she had to his presence, and when she snuck a glance over her shoulder as the others filed in, she saw an excited smirk and his glittering dark eyes. It was the first she had seen him since the entrance ceremony, and she was proud that she did not blush even as her heartbeat increased. She couldn't control that, but she could school her face into an expression of scholastic interest.

The lesson had been captivating and enlightening, going above and beyond expectation. It was clear the class would be difficult and often as dangerous as the outside world has grown to be-- there would be no slacking off whatsoever. 

Ron, at least, was also excited for the lessons when he, Neville, and Hermione studied together in the library. With his desire to be an Auror, the perspective a reformed Death Eater gave was incredibly useful. Neville was less enthused, but was happy to be doing better in Potions.

That was another aspect that was working its way under Hermione’s skin. Ron told her that Harry had let him take the last new book and had a used copy-- one that was annotated by a mysterious person called the Half Blood Prince. Harry had been using those notes during class, and his skill at potions had increased from mediocre to extraordinary in an instant. Slughorn was very impressed, but Hermione was furious.

It was not that Harry was out performing her, even if just barely, it was that he was cheating. When Hermione experimented, it was on her own, and she came by the knowledge fair and square. Harry was using the previous owner’s hard work, and passing it off as genius insight. If they were still talking, she would have told him off for it.

After the first week of class wrapped up, Hermione plopped next to Luna at the Gryffindor table and offered the blonde a tired smile while she loaded up her plate with a paltry amount of food. Stress had never been kind to Hermione’s stomach, and every day fried her nerves even further.

“Hello, Hermione. Have classes treated you well?” She asked, smiling gently with hooded blue eyes. The older witch shrugged, taking a bite of toast while she thought about it. With Luna, it was always best to consider before answering.

“For the most part, yes. We aren't using a lot of spells quite yet so my injury isn't flaring up too badly, but the theory work is fascinating so that makes up for it. I do miss how Potions was, however,” Hermione told her, and Luna nodded.

“Yes, Professor Slughorn is a far cry from Professor Snape. He’s much more relaxed, but we've also had more cauldrons explode than I’ve ever seen,” Luna responded, and Hermione grinned.

“Safety does not appear to be his priority, does it?” She asked while Luna took a bite of her sandwich, shaking her head.

“No, he's rather more into collecting students the way muggles collect Pokemon cards, isn’t he?” She responded, and Hermione looked at her with surprise.

“Wait, you know about muggle trends? Current ones?” Hermione asked in shock, and Luna gave her one of her enigmatic looks.

“The ones worth following, yes. It is a fascinating hobby, though I wish those creatures were real. I've got a few cards of my own. They're rather adorable,” Luna confided, and pulled a couple out from her bag. Hermione only had a cursory awareness of the cards and didn't recognize the cartoon creatures, but was impressed at the sheen on one of them, which Luna explained was a holographic card. Hermione was saved from her bewilderment when Ron sat down opposite them.

“Hey,” he grumbled, clearly upset. Hermione raised a brow but Luna just tilted her head, eyes sad.

“Is it Harry again?” She asked in a gentle but worried tone. Ron nodded sharply and took a rough bite of his chicken.

“Yeah, he’s being a huge prat. It's worse than just after the Triwizard tournament. I think he should start meditating again,” Ron complained, and Hermione looked at him with a frown.

“Wait, when did he stop?” She asked. She still practiced meditating daily to help keep her mental walls up and strong, and did mental exercises every morning to enforce the library. If Harry wasn’t, the connection could still be used.

“I’m not too sure. I don't think he did much this summer, but I haven't seen him do it yet since school started,” Ron revealed with a casual shrug.

“That wanker!” Hermione seethed, and both her friends looked at her with wide eyed shock. She blushed, realizing she had spoken out loud. Ron was the first to recover, blinking slowly.

“Er, Hermione?” He coughed. Luna, if anything, just looked amused.

“He’s not doing occlumency like he’s supposed to. Just because we got dragged into a trap doesn't mean he can stop practicing, Voldemort isn't going to give up that advantage! Excuse me, I've got to see a big bloody prat about being an idiot,” she explained before leaving in a huff.

“Since when does Hermione talk like that?” Ron asked in bewilderment. Luna shrugged, but quirked a smile.

“Oh, I think mentally she has for a long while. She's just exasperated,” she told him, leading Ron to shake his head. Even with all that Hermione had told him, he realized it wasn't even close to the full picture of her.


	26. Chapter 26

Hermione used her journal map to track Harry down to the Quidditch pitch, where he was practicing flying moves alone. She watched him as he zoomed overhead, performing stomach flipping feats that make her nauseous. His face was clear of stress for the moment, and a small smile of victory came out as he performed some maneuver-- was it the Wronski feint? She wasn't sure, but it was still impressive. 

She knew the moment he noticed her, because that smile was instantly replaced with a frown and he turned away. She wasn't about to be deterred, though, and casted a Sonorous charm on herself.

“Harry Potter! Don't you fly away from me! Come down and talk to me, please!” She yelled at him before quickly disengaging the charm before she could begin to itch. Harry paused, then reluctantly descended to the ground. Hermione walked over to him with trepidation, unsure if he would yell at her again.

“You haven't been practicing Occlumency, have you?” She asked quietly, and Harry flinched, completely caught.

“I… I have a little,” he tried, but one look at her face showed she saw right through that lie.

“Harry, I'm not trying to be a bossy shrew or anything like that. I'm trying to be your friend here. You've been saying hurtful things to people I know you care about, and that isn't the Harry I know,” she told him, more than a little tearfully. It may have been manipulative, but it got her point across. Harry deflated and sighed, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.

“It's not that I mean to, I just get so… angry,” he responded, and Hermione wiped her eyes.

“That doesn't make it hurt less,” she informed him, and he looked down, ashamed.

“I can help you, Harry. We all can. Let’s all practice together, and I'm sure your mood will start to improve. Then your friends will want to be around to see that cool move you just pulled when I walked up,” she encouraged him, smiling gently. Harry nodded slowly, and sighed again.

“I'm sorry I've been such a prat,” he said, and Hermione shrugged.

“Yeah, well, I'll forgive you this time. After we take down the mad man, I'll be more vindictive,” she told him, grinning.

“Hermione, I saw you offer a woman up to the Centaurs to be possibly killed. How can you get more vindictive?” He asked, and jumped at her devilish grin.

“Want to find out?” She teased, laughing when he shook his head.

“Okay, go back up to the castle. It's still lunch for a short while. Tonight, we can practice Occlumency with everyone,” she offered, and took Harry’s arm as he agreed, finally feeling on top of things for the first time in weeks.

\--

That evening, Hermione gathered her friends in the Room of Requirement for training. Harry had evidently apologized to all of them, as the tense air around him had dissipated a small amount. The room had shaped itself into a cozy sitting area with cushions on the floors and a pleasant smoky smell filled the air. Hermione sat first, and instructed the others to sit around her in a circle.

“Alright, close your eyes and prepare to clear your mind. Tonight, we are just going to meditate,” she told them, and watched as they complied. Harry and Luna were the first to do as asked. Hermione was not surprised that Luna seemed completely at ease with meditating, and figured she probably did it often. Harry was out of practice but eager to prove himself again.

Neville was next, a little apprehensive but willing to try. Ron followed his lead with a slight frown, then Ginny with a quirked smile. Hermione watched all of them before closing her own eyes.

She walked them through a standard meditation exercise, speaking slowly and softly and listening to their even sounds of breathing. She could hear when Ginny fidgeted, and Ron shifted in his seat, but even they managed to relax enough to sit still. After an hour of practice, Hermione stood and stretched, and the others followed suit.

“Meditation is the backbone for Occlumency. We must have a solid control of our own mind and thoughts before we can wall them in. I'd like if we can meet every day for this. Probably not for a full hour, but constant practice will build the foundation. I'll also put together some reading for you, to help understand the theory of what we are working towards,” Hermione lectured at the end, observing her friends for their reactions. Harry appeared dedicated, and Luna was interested. Neville was contemplative and Ron and Ginny were apprehensive. It was how she figured, but she knew the Weasleys could perform well if they had confidence in it.

With plans to meet again the same time the next night, the teens all dispersed. As she walked out with them, Hermione felt a warmth in her robe pocket-- a message from Severus. He had not yet spoken to her about her apprenticeship duties, as he wanted her to first settle into classes. It appeared to be time. Hermione stopped walking and excused herself to Ron and Neville.

“Sorry, I forgot I had another meeting tonight,” she told them and slipped away before they could question her, though she felt Ron stare at her as she retreated. After she turned a corner, she opened her journal to read a meeting request in short script, then hurried on her way. She slipped through the secret and ill used passages with confident ease, as familiar with them as the lines on her palm.

She disillusioned herself as she approached the lab corridor and slipped into the lab without having seen or felt anyone else. Snape looked up as the door opened, his wards dissolving, and Hermione revealed herself, scratching at her scar with an annoyed frown.

“No more magic for me tonight,” she muttered then turned her focus to her professor.

“Still having pain, Miss Granger?” He inquired, and Hermione shrugged.

“Not nearly as much as before, but still there if I cast too much in a day,” she explained, and he frowned. She waved off his concern by approaching the table where cauldrons were set up.

“So you require my assistance, what can I help with?” She asked instead, and he stared at her for a moment longer before blinking and nodding at the table.

“Tonight will be a test of sorts. I want to see exactly what you are capable of, and there is no better test than the Wolfsbane potion. You shall be creating Lupin’s potion this cycle,” Severus informed her, smirking as she looked up at him with wide eyed worry.

“Sir!” She protested, but he merely raised his brow.

“I was under the impression that you are a capable potion brewer with the ability to handle a challenge. I shall supervise you, but unless I see you gravely commit an error, I shall not endeavour to assist you. There may well come a time where you must create this alone, so you must learn to complete it as such,” he explained, and ignored Hermione’s worried frown. She decided against pressing him on his potential leaving, and picked up his hand written recipe from the table instead.

The potion was incredibly complicated, both in the precise methods of harvesting ingredients and the brewing methods. It was finicky and very easy to mess up. But Severus thought she could, so she would do it.

“Okay. I’ll check the store room,” she said, determination steeling her voice, and he quirked a grin as she set to work. The potion would not be completed in a single night, but the base of it could be. She worked diligently while Severus watched, neither allowing any awkward feelings to rise to the surface.

Hermione at least had the distraction of the most grueling potion she ever had to make. Her focus was solely on her work, relying on her deep study of potions to guide her instincts. Severus, however, focused on her.

Hermione had been at the forefront of his mind any time he was alone. The witch was an enigma, a puzzle shifting at every turn, and he revelled in every side she slowly revealed. He could appreciate her intense devotion and self sacrificing ways in ways no one could. She was beyond brilliant and striving to improve in areas that just a year prior, he would have thought impossible of her. And yet, she had proven him wrong.

Severus shook himself of his contemplations and focused once more on Hermione’s efforts. She was doing remarkably well for the first steps, her eye for detail and perfectionism lending to her precise cuts of ingredients and clean organization for each step. A sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead but she did not stop to wipe it. He breathed a light sigh of relief that she would be able to handle the potion for Lupin after he was gone.

And wasn't that a thought he did not want to have. His impending task was a sword of Damocles over his head, and every passing day and lack of trust from Draco made it worse. The boy was a disaster waiting to happen, and even knowing he was not marked did not make him less dangerous.

He sat heavily on the bench at the edge of the lab, watching his apprentice and fighting to keep the despair from over taking him, a daily fight. He listened to her steady breathing and the rhythmic sounds of her preparing the Wolfsbane and bid himself relax. Within a few breaths, his mental walls were reinforced and the dark thoughts had been lowered again. He was simply waiting for his student to reach a stopping point so he could critique her work to her. It was a long wait but he was patient beyond all expectations.

Finally, she lowered her stirring rod and stepped back, placing a stasis charm on it before turning to Snape with a wary and expectant look. She worried her bottom lip as she waited for his approval or criticism. Snape obliged her and looked over the cauldron, checking the pearlescent sheen and mauve color against his memory banks. It was perfect, as he expected. He allowed a quick smirk to pass his lips and looked back at Hermione as she breathed a sigh of relief.

“Well done, Miss Granger. You passed the first hurdle. I shall expect you back here every evening after dinner for the next three days to continue the potion. I hope you are taking care to avoid being seen?” Severus acknowledged, brow raising with his expectation. Hermione nodded firmly.

“Of course sir. Though, I may need you to cast a Disillusion on me when I leave, I seem to have hit my limit getting here,” she asked, casting down her eyes with discomfort. Her professor stared at her a moment with some sympathy.

“Very well, Miss Granger. Has your injury been giving you any trouble?” he asked, looking at her cautiously as she stiffened, a flush reddening her face.

“No, it seems to be improving. However, I am still under orders from Madame Pomfrey to stop casting the moment it starts to hurt. It has been a long day of classes, you know,” she responded defensively. Severus could definitely understand her sensitivity to the matter, especially considering his foolish slip over the summer. He only nodded, biting his tongue.

“I meant no offense in my questioning, only that if there is a larger issue at hand, it should be dealt with,” he informed her dryly, making her blush again while she nodded sharply. The moment disturbed him, as far a cry as it was from their last meeting. It was for the best, but he could not help the longing in his arms to wrap her up and try to heal her completely.

“This is all I need for tonight, Miss Granger. We can set up some sort of regular meetings after this potion is finished,” he told her instead of what he was thinking. She relaxed as the topic of her injury was dropped.

“Yes, sir,” she muttered demurely, just as off on her footing as he was. Severus stepped close to cast the spell, taking comfort in how her body turned to face him completely, her eyes intent on his face. His wand tapped the top of her head as he whispered the spell.

“Be quick, it has been cast with a timer,” he explained, and she grabbed her bag and necklace before scurrying out of the room, sneaking a final glance over her shoulder as she slipped out the door. He sank wearily to the bench, exhausted from maintaining his masks even around the one person who always saw right through them.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the late update y'all. i had written out a few chapters ahead, but realized they wouldn't work and had to redo like 15+ pages lmao we on track now tho

The next three days were hellish for Hermione, who reverted back to using her Time Turner the way an addict relapses. She once again felt overwhelmed by all the duties she found herself entangled in, and wondered how Severus managed his without the handy bit of magic.

As it stood, she had her normal and extremely full range of classes with their homework. There was also prefect duty, including patrols every other night. She also needed to prepare easy to study material for her friends trying to learn the basics of Occlumency, and leading them through meditation and thought exercises. Harry had also sheepishly admitted he needed private lessons again, thus adding to the pile. To top it off was brewing the most complicated potions she had ever undertaken with the most complicated man.

Honestly, it was a miracle she hadn't snapped already at everyone who needed something from her. She wondered fleetingly if that was how dark witches were made.

By the end of her second month of school, she was exhausted and frustrated with everything. She hated that she already felt like she was in over her head. Matters were not helped at all by Harry’s defensive clinging to his potions book.

“Harry, please, I'm not going to steal it. I just want to see,” she scoffed, annoyed with Harry’s pout. She was pleased when he relented.

“Just be careful with the Prince’s book,” he said, grimacing when he realized who he said it to when Hermione gave him a look that he was being stupid. She gently opened the text and saw a note in the margin, and nearly choked. The handwriting was incredibly familiar, just as it should have been to Harry. Then again, Hermione knew he was not likely to pay attention to it.

“Harry,” she started, softly touching the writing with a soft smile. He sat up and regarded her with suspicion.

“What?” He asked, apprehensive. Her tone normally meant news he wouldn't like.

“Do you know who the Prince is?” She asked, fighting back a grin at Harry’s reluctance.

“No, he’s an old student, but he didn't put a name. Why?” He asked, and Hermione held the book out to him.

“That was Professor Snape’s book,” she told him, stifling a giggle behind her hand as his eyes widened and he scrutinized the notes on the edge of the page.

“No way, how do you know?” He demanded, and Hermione blinked.

“Harry, he’s written instructions on the board for the past five years. How did you not know?” She asked, and Harry shrugged, glaring at the book.

“I don't know, the Prince… he’s not an evil old bat. He’s brilliant and just trying to get ahead of some jerks,” he defended, still not believing that his most hated professor had been the one to leave helpful notes and half developed spells over the edges of the pages of his book. Hermione gave him a look that was half concern and half pity.

“Professor Snape is brilliant, Harry. He was the youngest person to get a potions mastery for centuries,” she defended softly, without her normal passion when defending the professor. She was more concerned about Harry’s distaste. He put the book on the table between them roughly.

“I don’t want to use it anymore, he hasn’t helped me before, so I don’t want it now,” he sneered, and Hermione frowned. She gently picked up the tome and tucked it into her bag with a sigh.

“I don’t know why you’re upset over that, Harry. He has helped you. Maybe not in class, but he’s saved your life and mine multiple times. I can keep a hold of this if you would like, though,” she informed him with much more softness than she wanted to, but she was on edge because of his mood. The Occlumency lessons had been helpful, but he was still fairly prone to lashing out when discussing someone he hated-- notably, Draco or Professor Snape. If he were more himself, she would have swatted him for his childish behavior.

“Only because he had to or Dumbledore would kick him out! He isn’t a good guy! He would have already hand delivered me to Voldemort if he thought he could get away with it!” Harry hissed, trying to be mindful of the others studying around them. Hermione flinched away. Harry hadn’t been that level of petty and daft for a while. She gave him a long, searching look and braced herself.

Then she flicked his forehead.

“Ow! What the hell was that, Hermione?!” he demanded, rubbing the spot with a grimace. She tilted her head the way Luna usually did, and squinted while Harry just grew more irate and repeated himself.

“I don’t have those special glasses that Luna does, but for a second I was sure I saw some little creature infecting your head. You were sprouting off crazy talk, so I thought I would try to shake it out,” she explained with a shrug before standing.

“I’m never going to ask you to like Professor Snape, Harry. He’s incredibly unlikable and cruel and a big bully. But I do ask that you don’t downplay what he’s done for us, or for me. Don’t forget that he is the only reason I’m still alive right now, and that he healed me with great risk. He could have easily said he didn’t know how to reverse the curse used on me, because he really didn’t. He only had a theory. He could have let me die and no one would have been able to say he did it on purpose, because it was a curse none of them, even Dumbledore, had seen before. So forgive me if I’m a bit sensitive to the topic, but I refuse to believe Professor Snape is as wholly evil as you have been claiming since you were eleven,” she ranted in a calm, cold tone. Harry crumpled in on himself immediately: Hermione ranting while calm was far worse than her yelling. She eyed him with no small amount of righteous upset but forced herself to calm down.

“I’m going to take a walk. Use my textbook to finish your essay,” she told him, motioning to her own potions book, and left the common room, feeling Harry look at her for only a moment before looking away. She needed to work harder on helping him curb his anger, but she was just so tired.

Once out and wandering the halls, Hermione began to calm once again. She relished being alone with her thoughts, though she wished she could share them with Severus at the level they had been at before. Even though she understood the need for distance, she still felt distinctly uncomfortable around Severus, largely due to his own discomfort. It had been two months since they had returned to school, and she worked with him nearly nightly, but they still had not quite found a path between being completely awkward or completely involved with each other. Often, Hermione would feel his eyes on her back, his gaze shifted before she could catch him. More often still, she would watch him from across the room, mesmerized by his deft hands or sweeping walk.

It was nearly torturous to be around him, but it was worse when she was alone and memories of her last meeting with him of the summer could come to mind with no one around to see her blush. It was the memory of that promise that kept her going through everything. 

Hermione was lost in thought as she wandered the hall, more secure in letting her guard down since Poppy gave her the all clear for her magic. The scar had healed nearly completely, though it still itched occasionally and left a nasty red slash across her torso. The back of her neck began to tingle, and Hermione tensed but kept moving, though she slowed and subtly palmed her wand.

“Granger,” hissed Draco’s voice from a darkened alcove, and she looked in that direction with a raised brow. He stuck out a hand and peeked out, annoyance clear on his face. He nodded towards the alcove and ducked back in, leaving Hermione staring at him incredulously. Still, she couldn't resist her curiosity, so she cautiously joined him in the alcove, holding her wand tight.

“What do you want, Malfoy?” She whispered back. He looked somehow further stressed than at the beginning of the year, with a shaky glamour concealing most of the tightness of his face. Anxiety was coming off of him in waves and it did little to alleviate Hermione’s own, but all of his cocky showboating was gone.

“... I need help. Potter and the Weasels won’t listen to me, but you’re more rational. I’ve been a jerk, I know, and I’ll let you punch me in the face again if it gets you to help,” he stumbled out through gritted teeth. Asking for a favor from someone he considered an enemy was perhaps the hardest thing he had ever done, but he would rather speak to Hermione, who at least had a brain in her head, than Potter or his other followers, who would have hexed him before he could breathe.

Hermione stared at him evenly, her grip never loosening on her wand, which was still aimed at Draco from her waist. Her lips pressed tightly together as she considered his request, and all her stress still burned in the back of her mind, but her sense of duty to good won out.

“What do you need? I’ll decide after you tell me,” she told him instead of agreeing, but if he was seeking help from her, it was likely to involve trying to do something bigger than himself. He knew better than to ever try to pull a fast one on her, but she was still on edge. Whatever he needed was the furthest thing from good, given the unease radiating off him. Draco nodded shakily, more understanding than others would be about not agreeing before details worked out. Most Slytherins shared that mindset.

“More than fair. I… I don’t want to be what they are trying to get me to be. Not anymore. Can you try to get Dumbledore to at least meet with me? I don’t know if he will actually listen to me, but… I need to try,” he explained in hushed tones. Hermione blinked in surprise, brows raised. It was nearly pleading. Hermione faltered, then slowly nodded.

“I can do that much. Make your way up to his office, I’ll meet you there. I’ll speak with him and convince him to listen,” she told him, steeling herself to play his advocate in a surprising turn of events. She took a step back towards the hall and stared him down.

“I am more rational than Harry, and I believe that everyone has the potential to do good, at least, while they are still our age. But Draco Malfoy, believe this: if you ever cross me again after this, you will understand exactly why Harry is more scared of me than he is of you, and he thinks you’re a marked Death Eater,” she threatened, and Draco nodded quickly. Hermione listed high on his own list of fears, but matters were a little beyond his control.

Hermione turned on her heel and left, walking quickly to a shortcut that would take her up to Dumbledore’s office far faster than the normal route, and it also had the benefit of being unknown to the most the school. She checked her own map as she tread quickly down the path, finding Dumbledore in his office with a visitor. Professor Snape’s own name and footprints stood across from those of the Headmaster, and she frowned. She would deal with it, but worried her lip anyways.

She beat Draco by a long shot to the gargoyle, who she greeted with a pleasant smile and told the password to. It stepped aside and she followed the stairs up before pausing to knock on the door. The soft reverberations of their voices stopped, and a moment later the door opened. Severus looked at her with bored and nearly annoyed curiosity, and Dumbledore smiled gently with a twinkle to his eyes.

“Miss Granger, to what do I owe the pleasure? Pardon Professor Snape, he was about to be on his way,” he told her, gesturing at Snape who sneered in return. Hermione shook her head when he took a step towards the door.

“Draco Malfoy is on his way here. He wanted to speak with you about something important. I believe he is wanting to defect from his camp, if you will,” she explained, and looked to Severus with concern in her eyes. 

“Should we believe him?” she asked him directly, and he stood stationary for a moment, considering the question with a passive expression. He finally gave a slight nod, and looked to Dumbledore.

“If you are bringing him into the Order, or into your game, I should be here. If you are not, I should not,” he said simply, and Dumbledore sighed, losing his dotty persona. That he still tried to maintain it around Hermione was baffling, but she did not press the matter. The old man pinched the bridge of his nose and nodded before looking back up at Severus.

“Will you accept the consequences if this fails?” he asked gravely, and Hermione startled at the question. She was even more shocked at the acceptance in Severus’s face, the expectation that it would fall on him as he nodded curtly. Before she could object or question it, a knock sounded at the door.

“Come in,” Dumbledore called out and Hermione glared at him heatedly for the second it took for the door to open and Draco to slip in. She glared so harshly that she missed Severus noticing her look and his minute, pleased smile. Draco looked at everyone, standing tensely at the edge of the room, and looked at his professor with a brief flicker of confusion.

“Good evening, Headmaster. Professor,” he greeted with trepidation, swallowing down his worry as he took the chair near Hermione, who watched him carefully from the corner of her eye. He looked like a frightened rabbit, ready to run the second things turned south. Hermione was tempted to reach out a calming hand, but figured that would rate highly on things that would make Malfoy bolt.

“Mister Malfoy, it is a pleasure to see you. What can I help you with this evening?” Dumbledore asked, and Malfoy swallowed again. He looked again at Severus, and down at his shoes.

“I, uh, I didn’t realize you were busy. I can come back later,” he said, standing quickly, but Professor Snape put his hands quickly on his shoulders and forced him back in the chair.

“Sit. Miss Granger has briefed us on the situation. I assure you, Draco, my presence here is to your benefit,” Severus reassured him in a tense tone, and continued to stand behind him. Draco nodded shakily, and let out a long breath.

“Yes, sir. I… I have a confession to make. Headmaster, I… I have been told that I have to… kill you,” Draco whispered, too afraid to say anything louder. Hermione stared at him with wide eyes, flickering a glance at Severus's stoney face. His carefully blank and rough expression confirmed a fear that had suddenly clutched her heart-- that this mess with Draco was what he had came to her about during the summer. 

Draco paled at saying what he did, and tripped over his own tongue trying to continue.

“But I’m not a killer! I don’t want to be-- I don’t want to do what He wants, but if I don’t, my Mum--” he cried out defensively before a heaving sob claimed him finally. Hermione was startled to hear the word “Mum” come from Draco, even knowing he had parents and even having met his mother. Even with as nasty as she had been, Hermione would never have wished something terrible on Narcissa simply because a madman had targeted her son. 

Dumbledore listened to Draco with a kind, sympathetic expression, waving his hand at a tea set when Draco began to cry in earnest. Severus kept his hands on Draco’s shoulders in a rare form of solidarity, his jaw clenched as he looked over Draco’s head at Dumbledore. A silent conversation took place between the two of them before Dumbledore finally nodded.

“Young Mister Malfoy, it is quite alright. I was made aware of your… regrettable task over the summer. It took an incredible amount of bravery for you to seek help, particularly to ask Miss Granger, with whom I know you share animosity,” Dumbledore responded gently. Draco glanced at Hermione at her mention, nearly having forgotten her presence in the moment as he laid bare his consuming issue.

“I’m not being brave! I’m just trying to help my Mum!” Draco hissed, annoyed, and Severus squeezed him again.

“Calm down, Draco. We are going to help you,” he told him, and Draco shook off his hands and stood, agitation making tension through his tall form.

“And you! What the hell do you mean! You’re supposed to help me kill him, but here you are acting like everything is fine!” he shouted, and Severus only blinked though Hermione stared openly at him. Oh. Well if that didn’t bloody well explain everything. It was truly no wonder he hadn’t wanted to explain himself to her, or couldn’t. Hermione swallowed a tightness in her throat as she considered everything she was now privy to.

“Please settle down, Mister Malfoy, and all shall be explained. Perhaps, by the end of our meeting, we will have found some sort of solution to this grave matter,” Dumbledore said, his voice shifting from being placating to the commanding words of a wizened wizard. Draco stared at everyone for a few moments before regaining his seat, and Hermione did reach out her hand towards him, her lips pressed together when he glanced at her, startled. He surprised her yet again by gripping her pinkie with his own before releasing it, the touch sending a shudder down her spine.

The conversation that followed gave Hermione a clarity she wasn't sure she wanted about the Death Eater families. It was clear that, though he was still a prejudiced brat, Draco was as much a tool and victim as Harry often was. His assignment was a punishment for his father’s failures, meant to damn or kill Draco either way it played out. She was horrified that such a burden was placed on him, and that the head of Narcissa was being used as leverage.

She was not at all surprised that Severus had been oath bound to help him in his task, or that Dumbledore had encouraged it. In Hermione’s opinion, the old codger was always asking far too much of a single man. Without Severus, she knew the war would have been lost long ago, but that was still no justification for his treatment. The dark wizard had refused to look at her as the men all spoke, leaving her alone to organize her thoughts and begin plotting mentally.

She startled when her name was used, and she looked up at Dumbledore, who regarded her with that same annoying and belittling look that drove her up the wall.

“Miss Granger, you will be essential to this plan, as far as the safety of young Draco is concerned. I am aware that Harry is quite determined that something nefarious has been afoot regarding Draco, and he does not realize how right he has been, and yet, terribly wrong. It is your unique position that may help steer Harry from considering Draco completely lost,” Dumbledore explained.

Hermione scoffed and crossed her arms. It was immature, but she was beyond caring.  
“Pardon me, Professor, but I fail to see how you think I'll get Harry to listen to me if he hasn't in six years,” she told him in a clipped tone, still furious at Severus's quiet resignation. He smiled indulgently, making Hermione clench her jaw further.

“In most matters, perhaps. However, I have faith you can help him see reason. He is far older than when he first began dragging you into adventures,” he replied with a twinkling gaze. Hermione fought a scowl-- Harry never listened to her about anything remotely reasonable.

“Regardless of that, I fear Draco will have quite a hard time with matters without a confidante he can rely on. Given your ability to Occlude, I would like to request you continue giving him your kindness, should he need an ear to listen. And I'm sure he would take whatever advice you have to heart,” Dumbledore continued. Hermione blinked at him.

“Pardon me?” Hermione asked again, her voice cool. She swore she could feel Severus and Draco both tense near her, though Dumbledore continued to look at her with a patient, if not a little pitying, face.

“I am going to rely on your impeccable sense of kindness and discretion this school year to assist Mister Malfoy in avoiding a terrible fate,” Dumbledore reiterated, and Hermione’s hair crackled with sparks. She stood primly, holding in a tremble as she stared at Dumbledore’s nose, refusing to look him directly in the eye when her mental shields were uncertain with her rage. She missed the smile Severus hid behind his lanky hair at her tell-tale sign of a thorough tongue lashing.

“Then I am going to make one thing absolutely clear. I am not playing your games, Professor. I am not going to do as you ask because you ask it, or because you think you can guilt me into it by holding Draco’s life over my head. To be quite honest, he’s a rancid toerag and should have been expelled last year for an incident I am very sure he will recall. I do not owe him my kindness or friendship, nor will his redemption rely entirely on my patience. I brought him here out of human decency, but that will only bring him so far. Perhaps it is time for you practice as you preach, and handle him kindly yourself. My obligation has ended, and any further action on my part will have nothing to do with you,” she ranted through gritted teeth.

Draco sank further in his chair, Severus was immobilized, and Dumbledore was leaning back in his chair, blinking rapidly. It was the second dressing down he had received from the young witch, more than he had received from anyone outside of Minerva, and he was unaccustomed to the feeling. Hermione took in a deep breath, closing her eyes and calming herself, before giving the headmaster another cold look. Then she went to the door and slammed it behind her.

As the heavy wood shut behind her, she let out another breath and felt herself begin to shake with sobs, though her eyes remained dry. She stomped down the steps continued to stomp down the hall as she let her feet move her where they willed. 

The fire of anger in her heart carried her far, but as it cooled to ice in her veins and a headache pounding at her temples, her steps slowed. Eventually Hermione stopped in an abandoned hallway and sighed deeply. She drove the heels of her palms into her eyes, rubbing away the tired ache. She despised when Dumbledore was right. She was absolutely going to help Malfoy and convince Harry to help as well. Not because the professor had asked, no-- she knew she would have done it regardless. 

She had always hoped that Draco could somehow grow out of his racist ideology that he was raised on. He was bright, he just never bothered thinking for himself. But even beyond that childish optimism, she knew she would help because it would ease Severus's burden. No way in hell was Dumbledore going to handle Malfoy on his own.

Right. Well, if she was going to take on Draco's rehabilitation, she was going to need help. Even if said help would really, really hate it.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a pretty slow chapter tbh but it's going to be opening up a lot of things, esp on the severus/hermione front.

“Are you out of your bloody mind?” Ron asked, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. Hermione tended to come up with plans that were well above his paygrade, so to speak, but this one really took the cake. For her part, she looked sheepish, a tight lipped grin across her face with her eyes begging him to listen.

“It’s very possible, but not about this. He needs our help, as much as I’m loathe to admit it,” she returned, shrugging even as she scrunched up her face with distaste. Ron continued to pace in front of her in the Room of Requirement, turning on his heel every few steps and repeating back again. She watched him a few times before blinking and looking away.

“I mean, c’mon Hermione. You’re asking me to be nice to Malfoy of all people! He’s been nasty to you since he met you, and his family has been awful to mine for generations! He isn’t just some pet project to pick up,” Ron ranted. He finally stopped his pacing to stop and grab Hermione’s shoulders lightly, pleading with her to see reason. 

“You’re absolutely correct, he’s awful and so is his family. But I think there could be a chance to keep him from being as horrid as his father… and shouldn’t we take that chance?” she asked, voice strained. Ron sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. He hated it when Hermione was right, sometimes.

“I guess, but… It’s difficult. He’s said such terrible things to you and me, to Harry and my whole family. He’s jinxed you and cursed you, and Harry isn’t going to like this one bit,” Ron continued, and Hermione nodded, smiling sadly. 

“I know, Ron. Trust me, I think I hate him the most of anyone in this school. I’m not trying to become his best friend or anything, I just don’t want to see him killed because he can’t Occlude enough around that monster,” Hermione explained, and Ron looked at his feet. He couldn’t help but feel a little ashamed that he was being petulant about what was really a life or death matter.

“Besides,” Hermione went on as if she sensed his weakness, “I’ll be dealing with him mostly myself at first. It’ll buy us time to get Harry more centered.”

“Okay, Hermione. I’ll help you. Just, please be careful,” Ron pleaded after a world weary sigh. Her face lit up with delight and relief, and for a brief second he was reminded that he had once fancied himself in love with her. He smiled warmly and hugged his best friend through her gratuitous thanks. He loved the witch dearly as a friend and now more as a sister, he would be devastated if anything happened to her. He could only hope he could protect her from the worst of it.

\--

The next day after dinner, Draco was startled when Hermione slipped out from behind a tapestry and confronted him alone in the hall. He was still deeply ashamed of himself, particularly after she had reminded him of his own terrible behavior. Draco stared her down, tense, and she watched him with just as much trepidation.

“Malfoy… Draco, I decided I’ll help you out. I’ll be giving you private lessons in Occlumency from now on. Meet me by the Fat Friar’s statue at nine, we start tonight,” she informed him, and when he opened his mouth she raised an eyebrow in a fair impression of his godfather.

“Of course. Thank you, Hermione,” he said, and she only nodded before slipping away. Once she was out of his sight, she shuddered and shook off the feeling of disgust she felt any time she looked at him. If she was going to tutor him, she needed to shove that reaction deeply down within. She needed to get him to trust her so she could truly get through to him. If she was constantly looking at him with disgust, he wouldn’t be able to improve.

Still, she shook it off and approached the Room of Requirement, instead focusing on calming down to start another practice lesson with her friends. She pushed down her issues with Malfoy, picturing a book closing and being locked. She didn’t need to think about it right now. She put on a comfortable smile and opened the door.

“Okay, tonight we’re going to try practicing our shields. I’ll attempt to get in, you try to keep me out. Luna, you’ll go first. Everyone else, start working on reinforcing your shields,” she began, and the blonde approached with an easy smile. Of all of them, Hermione was worried the least about Luna. She knew the girl had already been practicing meditation, and her way of thinking was so different it would be difficult to drag out what you needed to know.

Therefore, Hermione was unsurprised when she tried to enter Luna’s mind and instead just got a headache. She had surrounded her walls with bright colors clashing terribly in no sense of pattern, but Hermione was sure that Luna knew exactly what it all meant. She tried again, trying to feel out any weaknesses in the colorscape, but to no avail.

She finally stopped, closing her eyes and rubbing her temples. Luna put a gentle hand on her back.

“Are you alright?” Luna asked, and Hermione nodded.

“Yeah, that's just a great defense. Honestly, I don't think I'll ever see anything like it again,” she laughed, and downed half a dose of headache potion. The pain in her temples dissipated, and she nodded to herself before looking up at Ron.

“Alright, Ron. Your turn,” she said with a grin, and he gulped. She tried to give him a reassuring look as Neville patted him on the shoulder. 

“Get ready… Legilimens!” she called, and entered Ron's mind. There was a weak presence of a wall, but she easily pressed through into his mind. There were memories flying everywhere, chaotic and wild. They looked like balls from quidditch, and Hermione almost scoffed. She reached up and grabbed a quaffle easily, and immediately felt all the emotions he felt as she looked in on the memory. She watched as Neville spoke excitedly about a new plant Sprout had gotten in, overwhelmed with affection for the affable young wizard.

Hermione let it go, and she grabbed another while she felt his feeble attempt to prevent her from seeing. That time, the image was a little fuzzy, a little less emotional, but she could still make out Ron, Harry, and herself as children on the enchanted giant chessboard. He was terrified but determined, mind racing to stay steps ahead in the game. 

She withdrew from his mind to see Ron shaking and sweating from exertion. She smiled gently and summoned him some water.

“It's a solid start. We haven't been really putting effort into practice yet, but we'll all improve with this. Try to focus on the feeling of someone else in your mind, recognize it, so you can remove the foreign influence,” she explained. Ron nodded sheepishly.

“I know it's easy words to say but hard to actually do. Just keep visualizing, it'll get easier,” she continued, then dismissed him to sit and rest. She would have liked to keep pressing him, but with as ill as he looked, she decided to move on instead.

“Okay, Neville, your turn,” she instructed, and as soon as he made eye contact, she spoke the spell and entered his mind.

Neville was definitely doing better than Ron, but nowhere near as well as Luna. His mental wall was a massive sprawl of vines. Hermione recognized them as poisonous, and with curiosity she reached out to try to press through them. A faint feeling of being itchy registered in her mind.

It was an impressive effort, but she wasn't sure if he could maintain it. As she thought, she moved through easily with only the mild irritated feeling. He had a sprawling mental garden, labeled by vague segments of time. The plants themselves glowed brightly in different colors. Hermione picked one and experienced the memory. 

It was an recent memory from school. Draco Malfoy stalked towards him and Neville felt both afraid and excited to stand up to the blighter. However, Malfoy didn't acknowledge him at all to say anything nasty, and nearly walked through him with his ghostly look. Neville startled as he slipped aside, and was shocked that for the first time he was worried about his worst school enemy.

Hermione withdrew, an anxious knot in her stomach over his perception of Draco. It just reminded her that she would be using her Time Turner to train him as well later that evening. She pushed off the sudden exhaustion and fear and smiled at Neville instead.

“That vine trick was very clever! Work on strengthening that, but don't forget to try to push me out or obscure what I find once I'm inside. You're picking up quickly, good job Neville,” she told him kindly. He lit up brightly at her praise and smiled at Ron, who looked proud of his boyfriend.

Ginny was up next, her face scrunched up with determination and focus. Hermione gave her little morning before trying to enter, and found a strong wall of force keeping her out. It was an impressive effort, and Hermione tried again to look for a weakness. Ginny's mental walls were sound, but no match for Hermione's continued efforts. She finally entered Ginny's mind and was met by a mess of emotions. 

The girl was nervous and insecure about her ability, and it made it easy to follow those feelings to memories with similar feelings. Hermione didn't hold on to any memory for long, just long enough to see if Ginny could kick her out. She could feel some shoving, and then an actual, physical hit when she picked up a memory that was hazy and full of fear.

Hermione laid out of the floor, blinking in surprise and wincing from the pain in her face and back, not to mention the recoil from abruptly leaving Ginny's mind. The redhead balked at her own actions, realizing she had just hit her friend.

“Hermione! Merlin's beard, I'm so sorry!” Ginny frantically tried to apologize but Hermione chuckled instead.

“Don't be, Gin, it was effective! Your mental walls are coming along great, but you still aren't organized inside. Maybe Luna can work with you on a more .. chaotic approach. Regardless, great job,” Hermione praised her. Ginny blushed but looked pleased regardless.

Finally, she came to the person she was the most nervous about. Harry had admitted before that he had looked into Snape's mind in a fit of frustration, not that he had said what he had seen, and Hermione was wary of it happening to her. She hated that she couldn't lay herself out to her best friend anymore, but it was a risk she needed to take in order to test how his practice was going.

“Okay Harry… Legilmens!” Hermione casted from across the room, catching Harry off guard as she made eye contact. His walls came up strong, and Hermione struggled to maintain contact when he was trying to force her out. Good, she thought, and felt herself grin as she pressed on regardless. She could feel Harry's pride that she still hadn't made it in and pressed on with that weakness.

Once inside, his head was less the chaotic swirl it normally was. He had organized everything into glowing orbs on shelves, much like the Department of Mysteries. She could feel his frustration that she had made it through, but pressed on regardless and lifted a bauble.

Inside, she could see Harry standing in the Forbidden Forest with Luna, feeding mysterious invisible creatures. Luna was explaining that they were thestrels, and pulled the carriages at school. Only those who had seen death could see them, and it was a blessing that Harry could not. Hermione sat the memory back in place and reached towards another. Her attempt was slowed by more effort from Harry to kick her out, but she pressed on and grabbed another orb.

In this, she saw him in his lessons with Snape, who looked as harsh and imposing as ever. He snarled as Harry begged for a break, biting out that the Dark Lord would grant no such niceties. That repeated until she saw Harry in Snape’s office, a Pensive out and Snape nowhere to be found. Her heart dropped as Harry looked around and entered the pensive.

It was very strange to see a memory of a memory, but Hermione persisted. She tried to convince herself it wasn’t morbid curiosity, but to see how Harry would handle her seeing something he had clearly lied about-- he had said he backfired the Legilimens, and Snape had freaked out, but that Harry had gone snooping put it in a whole new perspective.

Harry stood in the Great Hall as students took one of their OWL exams, turning to see Snape sickly and hovering only centimeters over his test. Hermione’s heart fluttered at his teenage self, seeing the same dedicated tiny lines dominating feet of scroll. He muttered to himself silently as he wrote, but Harry’s attention was drawn elsewhere and Hermione had to follow. She was startled that it was nearly like he was approaching himself from behind, but realized quickly that he was trying to look at his father.

James Potter was also studiously striving at his test, not as hunched over and with a confident smirk to his face. He really did bear a striking resemblance to Harry, in the shape of his face and unmanageable hair. But his eyes were hazel instead of green, his nose slightly wrong, and though the scar was obvious to Harry, Hermione saw the lack of stress in his carefree face. Harry’s efforts at pushing her out of his mind paused at the memory, and Hermione was eager to press on. Harry’s emotions were beginning to overwhelm her own, and she found herself wanting to see more.

James sat up and stretched, yawning, before turning slightly in his chair to look behind him. Harry and Hermione followed his line of sight to see a younger and much more handsome Sirius Black. His hair was sleekly styled, his face cocky as he leaned back in his chair, legs outstretched and cross under his desk. Hermione almost rolled her eyes-- not a thing had changed about him. A few seats away, Remus Lupin fretted over his test, chewing on his quill nervously. He looked ill and exhausted, and Hermione felt a sprig of sympathy for him. Harry soon spotted Wormtail as well, mousy and anxious as ever without the years of living as a guilty rat weighing him down. Harry’s rage began to rile her up.

That anger was distracted when Flitwick, far younger, called the end of the test and summoned the parchments. James hastily shoved his questions into his bag and jogged to catch up to his friends. Harry struggled to keep as close to them as he could while being around Snape, but Hermione focused more on the young Potions Master. He kept his questions out, pouring over them over and over. Hermione took the chance to read over the questions, none too different from her own test, and was sure Snape did fantastic despite his nervous muttering.

She overheard Remus being self deprecating over being a werewolf, and momentarily turned back to seeing Harry watching them with watery eyed fascination. She could hardly deny him that, and tried her best to keep paying attention to both sides of the equation. When James pulled out a golden snitch to play with, she stopped walking for a moment. He said he stole it? That threw her off.

She watched as James began letting the snitch nearly get away before catching it again, his reflexes even better than Harry’s. The group of four settled under a tree by the Great Lake, and Snape further away in the shadow of some overgrown bushes. The arrogance of the Marauders annoyed her, so she hovered closer to Snape. He silently studied the questions again, pulling out some textbooks and almost nodding every so often.

Finally, Hermione heard Sirius tell off James for showing off for Wormtail, and her attention was drawn back to them. Lupin suggested quizzing themselves, which she admired, but Sirius just scoffed.

“I already know all that, what’s the point?” Sirius shrugged off. James smiled at him affectionately, glancing towards some girls standing a ways away, before looking at something else capturing his attention. Snape had stood up, and was walking across the grass. James’s face lit up with malicious glee, and he put the snitch away.

“This’ll liven you up, then. Look at who it is,” he said quietly, and Sirius’s eyes narrowed and his grin widened menacingly. 

“Snivellus,” he hissed with glee. James and Sirius stood and began their pursuit. Hermione looked at Lupin for him to stop them, but he focused his eyes on his textbook without reading while Wormtail watched with admiration and anticipation. She was disgusted, but Harry had yet to catch on to the bullying, it seemed, as he followed the memories of Sirius and James.

“All right, Snivellus?” James called out, and Snape reacted without any shock. His bag dropped and his wand was half out when James shouted a disarming spell. Snape’s wand flew behind him, and he quickly went after it until a laughing Sirius knocked him off his feet with a hex.

Hermione was horrified by the crowd surrounding them, entertained or worried but still unwilling to help. Snape was furiously fighting to get up, winded and cursing, all the while being mocked by the two people who were clearly more popular than he was, while he was obviously the bottom of the totem pole.

Sirius’s taunts were no different than as an adult, but they had more teeth as teenagers. When James had enough of Snape’s cursing, he narrowed his eyes.

“Wash out your mouth,” he said in warning before casting a cleaning charm. Pink bubbles began foaming in Snape’s mouth, choking him while Hermione shouted. She was unsure if it was in her head or for real, but Harry began to double down on his efforts to shove her out. However, she wasn’t to be deterred-- she needed to see him win against these bullying jerks! They were no better than Malfoy, honestly, and she had half a mind to go find Lupin and Sirius the moment she could and lay into them.

“Leave him alone!”

The shout pulled Hermione from her own thoughts and she searched for the sound. A beautiful redhead, one she had spotted James looking towards, began stomping her way towards the scene. Her look of fury put her own to shame. Her vivid green eyes, the same as Harry’s were full of hatred and directed purely at James as she advanced. James tried to mess up his hair again as he smiled nervously. Harry watched with an open mouth, shocked as he was by how vehemently his mother hated his father.

“What’s he done to you?” Lily demanded, crossing her arms and not at all charmed by either of the Gryffindor boys trying their best to look nonchalant.

“Well, it’s not so much what he did, but just that he exists, you know….” James said, shrugging, but Lily was not at all impressed by the answer, no matter how the crowd laughed. Her eyes narrowed and she raised her lip in a disgusted snarl.

“You think you’re so clever,” she spat. “But you’re just an arrogant, bullying toerag. Leave him be!” 

“Date me, and I will, Evans,” James quickly said, and Hermione blinked at his audacity. She noticed Snape from the corner of her eye, the jinx was wearing off and he was inching closer to his wand. His face was full of disgust and hatred, eyes focused on his prize. He continued spitting out the soap, trying not to draw attention. Lily meanwhile, rolled her eyes.

“I wouldn’t date you if it was a choice between you and the Giant Squid,” she sniffed.

“Ah bad luck, mate,” Sirius shrugged before spotting Snape and pointing at him, yelling in surprise. Snape was back on his feet, wand aimed at James and a cold expression on his face. A flash of light came from his wand, and a gash appeared on James’s cheek. He whipped around just as he was hit, catching Snape in his spell. The lanky teen was yanked up by his ankle, his robes falling over his face and his grey, old underwear showing to everyone. 

Hermione was startled at the sudden change of direction, the seriousness that had taken the memory. Harry was similarly caught off guard. She was even more shocked that Lily, for a moment, covered a laugh. Snape did not miss it if his sudden look of betrayal was anything to go by. Still, she demanded that James let him down. James obliged with a coy smirk, letting Snape crumple onto the ground where he trembled with embarrassment and deep seeded loathing. Just as he got to his feet, Sirius Petrified him.

“Leave him alone!” Lily shouted once again, pulling out her own wand. James and Sirius looked taken aback, and eyed her with no small amount of caution. Hermione could feel Harry desperately trying to yank her out, but she was just as desperately trying to hold on, egged on by the feeling of his memory.

James finally backed down and muttered the countercurse, and Snape hastily stood.

“You’re lucky Evans was here, Snivellus, or we would have gotten real--”

“I don’t need help from a filthy little mudblood like her!” Snape shrieked, and the crowd gasp. Hermione shouted as if she had been stabbed, as caught off guard as she was. Even Snape looked shocked that he had said it, his hand coming up to his mouth instantly as if he could catch that horrid word. Lily reacted quickly, her face going red.

“Fine then. I won’t bother again. And I’d wash your underpants if I were you, Snivellus,” she bit out, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she walked towards her friends.

With that parting shot, Harry finally booted Hermione from his mind. He was panting hard with exhaustion, and Hermione was startled to realize she was crying. Ron was concerned with her upset expression, and put a hand on her shoulder.

“Hermione? Are you okay?” he asked, and she forced herself to snap out of it and look at him. She glanced at Harry, red faced and ashamed, and nodded slowly.

“I… Yes, I’m fine. Harry, your walls are growing a lot stronger. Work on pushing people out, once they manage to be in, and you’ll be fine. I need to go, I’m exhausted,” she said rapidly before grabbing her bag and skirting quickly out the door. Harry called out after her, and with his longer legs and athletic stride, he caught up to her quickly.

“Hermione! I’m sorry I lied to you about what really ended my Occlumency lessons… I was ashamed with myself for being so arrogant and rude, and… I didn’t want anyone to know what I had seen. I think it was the worst day of his life,” Harry admitted, looking distressed as he tried to explain.

“Harry, it was really bad of you to look into someone’s Pensive without permission like that, but I really need to go. I can’t really handle what I saw and I need to… I don’t know, but I need to process it,” Hermione responded, trying not to sound as horrified as she felt. Severus had used that horrible word against someone who was trying to help him. She wasn’t bullying him, so why would he…? 

As the thoughts came, so too did the tears. Hermione covered her face and turned away, but Harry pulled her into a hug.

“I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t know Lupin and Sirius were that cruel… and my dad. It was really uncalled for. I would have hated them if we were in school together,” he said, and Hermione nodded. That also bothered her greatly. All the snide remarked Sirius and Lupin made to Snape at Headquarters just felt even more messed up. But Severus’s reaction to Lily’s help just unsettled her deeply.

“Thank you, Harry, but I am still exhausted. Performing Legilimency is taxing,” she explained, wincing as she pulled away. Her head really did hurt, and she still had a session with Malfoy to do. Harry gave her a worried look but nodded and told her to be careful before going back to the Room of Requirement to discuss with the rest of his friends. 

Once he was out of sight, Hermione ducked behind an alcove and pulled out her time turner. She turned it back to just before nine, and went off to meet Malfoy in an abandoned classroom as she had instructed.

The blond was waiting with ill disguised tension, leaning against a dusty table with his arms crossed and his eyebrows furrowed. Hermione made no commented to him as she entered, but he uncrossed his arms and stood more alert.

“So, you've done some Occlumency work before, right?” She asked gently, more than a little on edge after her revelations from Harry's mind. Malfoy nodded, a brief jerk of his head, and she noticed he was biting the inside of his lip.

“Yes, well then. I'd like to see how set up your defenses are,” she told him primly, and he glared.

“You know, Death Eaters won't give you this much warning! You ought to be a bit less th--” he started, lashing out from nerves, and was caught off guard by her sudden entry into his mind. Hermione's smug feeling was short lived, though, as he quickly shoved her out.

“Good, then. You aren't a total beginner,” she quipped and he scoffed. She pressed on again, catching him with his defenses lowered. He had expected a lecture after a brief glance at his mental walls, but failed to realize how absolutely thorough and ruthless Hermione could be. She drilled hard at his walls and could nearly feel the cracks in his defenses. She doubled down, and broke through with a vicious grin.

Malfoy’s mind was clear of everything, a quiet darkness with no hints of thought or feeling. Hermione was actually impressed-- that was the mark of mastery that she could only hope to achieve. She concentrated and tried to pull forth memories from the blank canvas of his mind, focusing on herself as the easy target. She could feel ripples in the thick blackness, and a sliver of light broke through. She touched it, and found herself transported.

“Draco,” she heard herself say, and was startled to find she didn’t recognize the memory at all despite seeing herself there. Though, she also didn’t look quite as he remembered. Her hair was much frizzier than the memory showed, and she definitely never pouted like that!

“Yes, Granger?” Malfoy asked, smirking as the fake Hermione approached shyly.

“You’re right, your potions method is much better than mine. Show me?” the false memory simpered, and Hermione’s nose wrinkled and she abruptly left his head. Draco rubbed his temples, eyes squeezed shut. 

“Please tell me you did that on purpose to get me to leave, not because you have actual fantasies that are that gross,” Hermione deadpanned, and Draco grinned underneath his hand. To think, she was going to offer a headache potion out of pity. Her own migraine throbbed painfully at the thought. She really was testing some strong mental shields and it was taking a toll.

“Yes, well, I’ll admit I’m impressed with you ability to pull out false memories. You’re clearly quite advanced,” she reluctantly praised him. Malfoy grinned wide, unabashed to bask in the compliment, but reeled it in quickly. Hermione only just won the fight to keep from rolling her eyes. 

“Uncle Severus has been teaching me for years, and my parents. Why, I cannot say. He never dared try to turn us into allies or confidants,” Draco revealed. His tone was bitter and Hermione blinked at the harshness of it.

“He tends to be closed off, doesn’t he?” Hermione agreed, but speaking just brought Malfoy’s attention back on her. He regarded her with a suspicious look, eyes narrowed and his lips pursed.

“And what would you know about it? Why wasn’t it a shock for you to find out he’s a double agent? I know you’re only helping me because Dumbledore would make him do it otherwise. Why should you care?” he started in. He spoke quickly, his tone growing more harsh. The young man was clearly filled with questions that would never be answered by anyone else involved, and was unloading on the easiest target. Hermione flinched, unable to shrug it off when he was looking at her with frustrated but confused eyes.

“I… It’s something I discovered by chance. He’s aware of my knowledge. We have an understanding about it. That is part of why I am choosing to help you. I know better than many the strain he is under. That’s all I have to say about it,” she answered vaguely. Draco deflated, but nodded his acceptance regardless. It was more of an answer than he had received from Dumbledore and Snape combined.

“At least you’re saying something. I appreciate it, Granger. What else do you have planned for this lesson?” he asked, diverting back to the main topic. She winced at the thought of trying his outstanding defenses again.

“For tonight? Nothing. I don’t think I can really handle any more Legilimency without some rest. This wasn’t my first lesson of the night, you know,” she told him, a little defensive, and he rolled his eyes.

“I’m sure it must be exhausting trying to train Potter to do anything beyond being a prat,” he quipped, and Hermione frowned. Draco pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Wait, sorry, that’s not fair. Well, it is a little fair, but I am trying to do better,” he apologized. Hermione was stunned that he was making the effort to correct himself, even when Harry wasn’t around. It was a good sign.

“You aren’t really wrong, but… He is trying. We all are,” she responded. The atmosphere was even heavier than before, and she struggled to not shake the oppressiveness off. “It’s late, we should end for the night.”

Draco nodded, a more thoughtful look on his face than normal, and went for the door. He paused, looking back at Hermione with that same odd, sheepish look that meant he was striving to be good.

“Thank you for your help… Hermione,” he said, the name weird on his tongue, and he quickly slipped out before she could reply. She stared after him, still fazed by his apparent commitment to not only changing sides, but trying to be nice. It was uncomfortable for both of them, but growing less so with every act of effort. She felt that soon it would be less stilted, but a large part of her also realized it was just wishful thinking. Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed, head aching, and wished everything would just slow down for a moment.


	29. Chapter 29

Hermione was unsurprised to find herself bone tired but unable to sleep after the nights events. Alone in her bed, surrounded by curtains and a silencing spell, she was finally able to process what she saw in Harry's memories.

It was not a surprise to her that the Marauders were bullies-- at least, that Sirius was. Their continuing and often childish squabbles pointed to a lifelong relationship built on nastiness, but the absolute reasonless cruelty of it took her off guard. Their targeting of Severus seemed so pointless. He'd only been reviewing after a test, walking in the same area. 

But then… he said that word against Lily trying to help him. It should have never slipped past his lips as easily as it did, even if he looked aghast immediately after. He still used a slur against his friend. The others looked surprised that he said it, which made her circle back to why were they ever ganging up on him to begin with if that was the first time he said something so terrible. She shouldn’t have felt surprised that he had used it-- after all, he did become a Death Eater. Was it that moment, that parting jab, that had done it?

She didn’t understand why she felt so hurt by Snape’s actions in the memory. She knew that he was downright cruel to nearly everyone who had the displeasure of coming near him. Since childhood, he had been snappy and horrible to his students, and frequently laid out insults that brought the more sensitive to tears. Hell, she knew he had been a Death Eater, and no one would have gone that path without being evil in some part. 

Hermione rolled onto her side, hands buried in her neck as she struggled to wrap her mind around the image she had built of the man. It had hurt her as if he had said it against her, but she knew for all his nastiness that Snape would never have said that to her as his adult self. He was not fifteen anymore, he had grown, even if marginally, since then. It was tough to realize she had inadvertently put him on a pedestal that she knew he did not really deserve. He was good, deep down, and sacrificed a lot for the Order and the war, but that did not make him without fault. And the man had a good many.

She sat up, brows furrowed. She only knew that moment, but had no context for the build up or the aftermath. Had he apologized? Had she listened? She slumped back down. Of course Lily hadn’t. Would Hermione have forgiven him herself? She tried to imagine Harry saying it, and knew underneath that she probably would, given that she knew an evil wizard messed with his emotions. Was that really any different than constant bullying and humiliation that Snape had to put up with? Only, he was alone to handle it. Harry, at least, had her and Ron and Ginny and Luna to get through his dark moments. Snape, for what it seemed, had no one. It didn’t appear that he ever did.

Her feet were on the stone floor before she considered how absolutely terrible an idea she had, but she walked down to the dungeons regardless. She slipped easily by the patrols looking for students out of bed, and let herself into the potion lab she shared with Snape. The wards would alert him to her presence.

Almost immediately, the man entered, face thunderous until he saw Hermione was the intruder. His face became one of concern nearly imperceptibly, and he crossed the room to greet her. Normally, she would issue him a small message that she would be arriving. For her not to must have meant something serious.

“Miss Granger, is everything alright?” He asked. She knew her mental, and emotional, guard was down and he could see just how upset she was over what she had discovered. Still, the prospect of bringing it up was daunting. She shrugged in response, and turned her eyes down towards his coat. She counted fifteen buttons and looked back up, just to the side of his face. The idea of making eye contact with him made her nervous.

“I found out, tonight,” she started, making him raise a curious brow. She looked at the arch, heart racing in anticipation of his coming anger, and wrapped her arms around herself.

“I know why you ended Harry's lessons. He lied, before, never said what he found but--” she started, and as she thought he closed himself off instantly. His eyes darkened and he stiffened, stepping away from her and shaking off her hand when she reached out.

“Severus, listen to me--” she tried again but he snarled.

“What, so you can tell me off as she did? Unlikely. You know what a horrid person I was, I am. Don't drag out your leaving,” he spat out, dark voice cold as ice. Hermione planted her feet firm and put her hands on her hips. She let out an annoyed huff.

“When did I say I was telling you off? If you would let me finish a sentence before you get defensive, you would know I'm never going in the direction you fear. I know what you called her. I also know how absolutely horrid those damn Marauders were to you. And I can tell you, Severus, that actions speak louder than words,” she continued, watching as he went from standoffish and ready to sneer and snarl, to off balance and anxious. 

“Did you ever use it again?” she asked, and he raised his head to look at her more fully. She faced him full on, and her posture was rigid and tense. He paused, swallowing a lump in his throat. Then, he slightly shook his head.

“No,” he told her honestly. He refused to ever again, much to the derision of his fellow Death Eaters. Yet, they all knew he never joined for ideals on blood purity, and with his skills, few bothered to question it to his face. 

“... Did you mean it?” she whispered, and he lowered his head.

“In the moment, yes,” he admitted with hesitation, and heard her sigh. Her footsteps approached and she came closer, but did not reach out towards him. He dared not risk a glance up at her face, afraid he would see disappointment or disgust and he couldn’t bear to see that expression leveled at himself on a witch he loved. Not again.

“I’m not going to forgive you for that, Severus. Or condemn. It’s… it’s not my place to do so. I can’t pass judgement when I wasn’t involved, and given the circumstances leading up… it is unsurprising that you lashed out. You were afraid, and she was already hurting you, wasn’t she? I can’t really blame you. Harry… he’s said some hurtful things in the moment too. Though, he would never use that type of language,” she said, speaking in a calm but saddened tone. Severus looked up at her with shock. 

Severus stared openly at her, mouth slightly open as his eyes shone with disbelief. She wasn't yelling at him over what he did, demanding apologies or his eternal distance. She wasn't calling him every name in the book, or hexing him, or responding in any way he anticipated from years of experience. Hermione stood firm, chin jutted out with annoyance but her eyes were softer as she took him in. Hell, he was nearly cowering before her. 

She relaxed as she took in exactly how on edge he was, and wrapped her arms around herself again. It was obvious that he would have lashed out the moment he knew about her knowledge, but his vulnerability was something new and foreign to her. She had no idea how to comfort him, but reached out and grabbed him regardless. She wrapped her arms tightly around him, as though terrified he would pull away or disappear, and he melted into her. Even though he was much taller, he folded around her, resting his head on top of hers.

They stood together like that, holding each other close for a long few minutes. Neither was willing to be the first to pull away, but eventually Severus loosened his grip. His face remained neutral when Hermione glanced up, but she could read his embarrassed shame in the tightness of his eyes and tension of his jaw. 

No one since Lily had condemned the Marauders for their treatment of him, but she never truly meant it. He was well aware that he had made her uncomfortable with his sad background and deep seeded rage against the world from a young age. Potter and his band of cronies only brought out the bad impulses he already had within him. For all that he struggled to be a good person, he had always known deep down that he deserved the terrible treatment he received. Everyone saw the darkness inside him and reacted to it. 

“You were just studying. You hadn’t looked their way, hadn’t said a snide word towards them and they hexed you anyway. There isn’t any justifying that, you never deserved that,” she started again, voice cracking with emotion. He shook his head, refusing to listen to what went against everything he had always been taught. She saw some semblance of light in him, but he knew it was only the flame of obligation.

“It is exceedingly kind for you to think so, but their cruelty was justified. I have never been as good as you. I have been entrenched in dark magic from a young age, and they all knew I would become as they said eventually,” he said, voice a mere grumble, and she put a hand on her hip and stared him down.

“Severus, I'm not naive. I've seen how you act for years. You've protected Harry and myself so many times, even at great risk to yourself. Hell, you faced down a werewolf after we had knocked you out unfairly. That took true courage, and I don't know if I ever properly thanked you for that,” she told him, sincerity making her voice waver. She frowned, guilt rising up again as she realized just how much she and her friends had taken their professor for granted in their youth. He blinked and swallowed a lump in his throat.

She didn't know the true cost of that bravery to him, the deep seeded fear not just of werewolves but of Lupin in particular. But that was nothing compared to the horrific coward he had been in his youth, when he was her same age and how costly that cowardice had been for everyone. He was struck by the need to confess, and the urge to never let her know the truth of his actions and repentance. If she knew, surely she would despise him.

“Hermione, I… There are still more sins in my past. The memory you saw was only the tipping point that set me onto a very dark path. I do not wish for Dumbledore to be the only one to know what I have done, to be my only ally who knows… why I repent as I do. You are desperately important to me, and… And I need to give back to you what you have given to me. I have kept all of your secrets and offered you none of mine. I know what you have done, what you are capable of, and I need for you to know the same of me.”

Hermione blinked at him after his speech. It was impassioned, by his standards. She frowned, and reached for his hand and pulled it into her own, palm up. She traced the lines of his palm, caressing his calluses and watching the small twitches as she stroked his fingers. The motion calmed the both of them. She swallowed a lump in her throat and let out a deep breath.

“Severus, you don’t need to force yourself. You are entitled to your past, to your secrets… I don’t want you to feel obligated to tell me merely because I have told you about my own,” she chided, and he roughly shook his head and gripped her hands with both of his.

“No, that isn’t why. You deserve to know, and I want you to have total clarity… moving forward. Should we both survive… I want you to be fully informed about me,” he told her, the faintest hint of a blush on his cheeks. She nearly smiled, and would have if the atmosphere had not been so intense, or if the remnants of his memories were not still fresh on her mind. 

“You don’t want me to think myself in love with you without knowing how many terrible things you’ve done, right?” she asked quietly, a little surprised when he slightly nodded his head, the movement only noticeable by the slight shift of his hair. She tilted her head at him, studying his nervous and worried face before looking back at their hands. His pale hands completely wrapped around her smaller hands, making her feel warm and secure. The barest hint of a smile came out at that.

“Severus, you have to know that nothing you’ve done will suddenly end what I feel. That isn’t how hearts work-- unfortunately or not, they defy all logic and do whatever they please. You certainly still seem fond of me and my opinion despite knowing what I did to Umbridge, and to Rita Skeeter. I know that you have done horrible things as a Death Eater, but I also know that you are working to defeat them. You are deeply complicated. I knew that already,” she told him, and moved their hands so she could hold his, hand in hand. She squeezed his long fingers reassuringly, and he returned the motion and kept a tight hold. He took in a deep breath, his shoulders tensing, and let it out before he responded.

“I am the reason the Potter’s died, and the Longbottom’s were tortured. I overheard the very prophecy that you and your friends went after at the end of last year, and I supplied it to the Dark Lord to win his favor. I-- I didn’t know that Lily was… We never spoke, after what you saw, and I couldn’t blame her but… But I condemned her to die. I didn’t care before I knew she was involved, and I only cared about saving her life.

I begged the Dark Lord to spare her. I didn’t care about her husband or son, or how she herself would feel. I knew that, more than the prophecy, doomed her. I cared too much about her, brought more attention to her-- and she would never let them kill her family lying down. That was when I went to Dumbledore for help. Not because I had actually come to regret being a Death Eater because of what the Dark Lord had me do, but because I didn’t want that one witch to die.”

Severus’s words hung heavy in the air. Hermione didn’t even dare breathe after that confession. He spoke quickly-- nearly stumbling over his words instead of his normal slow and deliberate speech. His grip on her fingers was strong and desperate, clinging to a lifeline. She couldn’t move or react to his confession, as shocked as she was by it. It was horrid, what he had done. Selfish and despicable. There was no denying that.

“Why?” she croaked out, realizing how tight her throat was when she finally spoke. Severus did not respond for a few minutes, but Hermione did not press him. There would be no good answer for that. 

“I have thought about that very question for fifteen years now, and I still do not have a worthy answer. I became a Death Eater to secure a prestigious position in the wizarding world-- the Dark Lord funded my potions mastery and demanded my loyalty in return. I finally felt worth something, to anyone, and if cost my soul… so be it. I was desperate to chase that feeling of belonging, of being special,” he bit out, self loathing contorting his face. 

He sucked in a deep breath, and Hermione watched him with numb fascination. She had never considered that he could have had any responsibility in the murder of the Potter’s, let alone the Longbottom’s torture. The thought was too much to process, and floated hazily through her mind as she tried to rationalize. His rapid pace of speaking made it difficult.

“When he wanted me to get hired at Hogwarts, I jumped at the chance. I was an eager fool. I even knew that the Defense position was cursed, but that was where he wanted me. Even if only a year, I could spy on Dumbledore for him, influence young minds… But instead, I was a dirty sneak and eavesdropped on Trelawney’s interview out of self consciousness and jealousy, and I overheard part of the prophecy. I was found, but it didn’t matter to me then-- that prophecy would mean more than some teaching position. Then…. Then I found out that the Potter’s had a son, born at the end of July,” he continued, still refusing to look at Hermione who was still dazed by his revelation. He paused again to brace himself once more, unsure of Hermione’s lack of reaction but needing to explain himself. If not to her, then for himself.

“When I found out that Lily had a son, I panicked. The Dark Lord was already searching for anyone who would fit the description of the one who would destroy him, and he was growing frustrated with the lack of results. They were secret kept, and out of reach. I thought I could save her life if I begged enough. That perhaps I was useful enough that he would grant me that one favor, that weakness. I didn’t think she would ever forgive me, I never wanted that, but she would be alive. That was all I cared about. Fucking disgusting,” he spat, voice tightening with emotion. Hermione blinked at him, torn between wanting to comfort him and needing to hear the rest.

“He found out their location after threatening Pettigrew-- I always thought it had been Black, but that fucking rat was the one to reveal them. But I… I was the one to shine the spotlight on them.”

Tense silence passed after he finally finished speaking. Hermione's ears buzzed, fuzzy in the aftermath. Everything he had done was nothing short of horrific, and his motivation was just as dark and selfish. It was truly his worst moment, and she was unsure how to react to it.

Her first reaction was one of disgust, then overwhelming pity, and finally sadness. Everything in his life was sadness, and that sadness had leaked out and caused more. Her heart clenched painfully. She collapsed onto a bench, staring at the floor.

Severus was, of course, not surprised. The only thing that shocked him was that the witch had not gone screaming into the night, cursing him on the way. His body was starting to ache with tension, and he was sickened with himself for putting so much stock into another person yet again. She had the absolute power and authority to completely destroy him, but he still desperately hoped she wouldn’t. He had put his entire life in her hands-- he was unsure if he could survive her rejection after coming to rely on her unerring devotion and support. Of course, though, he wouldn’t blame her if she did.

Hermione moved her eyes to really look at him in the aftermath of his confession, though her head still hung low. Through the curtain of her brown curls, she could see that he was somehow more pale than normal, and his jaw was clenched tight. He clenched his fists with white knuckles, his posture was rigid and he stood perfectly still. Most who saw him in that moment would guess he was furious from his expression, but she knew it was nerves that created the harsh lines of his silhouette.

He hadn’t been much older than she was then, deprived of any sort of love or affection. He had never been taken seriously, or appreciated in any form. She understood that, had seen glimpses of the tragic life he lived. It still could not and did not excuse the events that took place. He never should have gone to Voldemort in the first place, never revealed the prophecy… But the fact that he did could not be erased. Neither could his years of loyalty to the light, to righting his wrong and protecting the son of the woman he had cared for so deeply. The son he unintentionally helped orphan.

He still was tortured for punishment, still warned the Order whenever possible, and still risked his life over and over without ever expecting or wanting thanks. He had still saved her life, despite the odds, and had never ratted her out to anyone. He had given her solace and knowledge beyond anyone else. 

“Fuck,” she muttered. Nothing else seemed to cover it. He only blinked, his tension unrelenting. She raised her head more fully, realizing that she had been crying as she did. She wiped at her eyes, then took a steadying breath. 

“Severus,” she started softly, and he looked down at her, nostrils flaring as his breathing increased in speed. She stood, forcing herself to remain steady even as she wanted to tremble. He ducked his head and sneered.

“Go on, then. I know you’re disgusted by me now that you know the truth of who I am. I sicken you. Leave and be rid of me,” he snarled bitterly. Hermione took a step towards him, and he flinched. He was startled even more when instead of hitting him or berating him, or simply walking out the door, she reached out and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into her embrace.

“I’m not abandoning you, Severus. I love you, wholeheartedly. That doesn’t make what you’ve done okay, I won’t insult you like that. I cannot change that it happened, or what lead up to it, but I can help us end that megalomaniac’s campaign of murder. Nothing will fix the past. We can only work on securing the future,” she told him, her speech more impassioned than she had thought herself capable of in the moment. 

At first, Severus remained still as a statue in her arms, but as she spoke, he relaxed against her and wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his face in her neck as she tightened her embrace, hands grasping his cloak. Relief was not a strong enough word to describe how he felt that she was not going to leave him, or look at him with the same disgust that Dumbledore had.

“However, there are still some things you can do better here. Stop being so cruel to Neville, for one. He’s never done anything to wrong you, and he only messes up so much because you’re always snarling at him. You don’t have to be nice, just… less outright mean,” she continued, and he nodded readily against her. Anything she demanded, he would give. She sighed, absentmindedly stroking his hair.

“I understand that you can never actually show any of us favoritism or niceness outside of the Slytherins, particularly with Harry, but… Neville at least deserves better. He wanted to be a Hufflepuff, you know. He never asked for any of this, but he always steps up to the plate when needed,” she told him, sighing. She had met Neville’s parents when visiting Arthur in St. Mungos, not quite a year prior. The memory was sad, and the soft spot she had for Neville had grown tremendously after that. She had always liked him-- he was her first friend at Hogwarts, after all. Snape’s treatment of him had always been her biggest issue with the man.

Well, maybe he could learn to lay off a little. Particularly since Neville had grown much more competent in Potions, following his interest in Herbology. The two subjects were complementary, and gave him a newfound confidence. However, Snape’s snappy remarks still caused his hands to tremble or his mind to panic, leading to mistakes. If Snape just left him alone, he could likely do quite well in the subject. Not that he had him for Potions that year, but his mean spirit was still very well active during Defense Against the Dark Arts, and the ghost of Snape’s harsh methods still hung over the Potions labs despite Slughorn’s easy going nature.

“I shall… try my best,” he vowed, mumbling in a deep tone against her. The reverberations tickled lightly, and she quirked a minute, involuntary smile for a moment. His best try was far better than a lot of people’s efforts, and though it was not likely to be a big impact, she hoped it would help at least a little bit. 

Impulsively, Hermione kissed his cheek. She could feel the prickle of his stubble against her lips, and quirked a smile. They loosened their grips, and stared into each others eyes. Severus looked relieved, exhausted, and nervous. He kept his arms around Hermione, still expecting her to take off any moment. If she were being honest, a part of her wanted to. 

She had never suspected that Severus was involved in what happened to Harry’s parents. The knowledge weighed heavily on her shoulders. However, it was pointless to put all the blame on him, as he did to himself. Pettigrew was the one who revealed their secret kept location, and Voldemort was the one to perform the killing curses. Even if Severus had never said anything, the Potters were still within the markers of the prophecy, and targets regardless of that divination drivel. It was still a tricky, sharp subject that would take a while for her to set to rights in her mind.

“You should return to your dorm,” Severus spoke. His voice was still deep with emotion, and Hermione nodded minutely. The new revelations had only made her head hurt more, and she rubbed tiredly at her temples. Wordlessly, Severus offered her a headache potion. She accepted and downed it with a wince. They always tasted terrible.

“Thank you, Severus. It’s been… a long night,” she muttered, the tension in her head easing as the potion took affect. He nodded slightly, clenching his jaw once more. She looked at him, frowning and trying not to let out an exasperated sigh.

“We can revisit this further later. There are still many questions I have but… They can wait. I’ll see you in class, Severus,” she told him. He said nothing further as she exited, but she could feel his eyes on her back. The door closed solidly, and she let out a deep breath. Just as she felt she was reaching the limits of what she could handle, life found a way to force more upon her. The knowledge about Severus she had gained felt heavy and bitter in her heart, and she added it to the alarmingly growing list of things she could never let her friends know.


End file.
